Half Pain
by Autumn Ivy
Summary: An fmahp crossover. After trying to bring back Al, Ed gets pulled into the world of Harry Potter. Many thing happen, including strip poker. An EEHG romance. Please read and review. 10th chapter added! A look into Sirius Blacks past
1. Chapter 1

Half Pain

By Autumn Ivy

Disclaimer - I do not own any of the worlds that I am using in this story sadly.

Note – This story takes place at the end of the series Fullmetal Alchemist and at the beginning of Book 6 of Harry Potter. There are some changes to the basic plotline of Harry Potter, but I am sure that the changes are all within a boundary that everyone can handle. Note that I have a twisted sense of humor.

Chapter one - Finished

It was all finished; he had finally accomplished what he had set out to do, or at least part of it. In his ideal version, after he got Al's body back and he would have gotten his arm and leg back. Then they would proceed to live (slightly) peaceful lives, without Coronal Bastard Face taunting him endlessly about his height. They would never have to see Mustang again and he would never have to put up with that bastard calling him short ever again. Things would be as they were… peaceful and happy.

This was not meant to be.

Everything had a price, and the price for Al's body, for messing with the gate again, was getting stuck at the other side of the gate. Again. The place where alchemy did not exist, the place where both science and technology were extremely advanced. Where his father Hohenheim was living out the rest of his life. If he saw that guy ever again, he was going to force him to tell how he could get back to Al. Then, he would beat the living shit out of him. The least Hohenheim could do for him was help him return home to Alphonse. He would have to know a way, he was Hohenheim, was the man who created the psycho-homunculus Envy. Of course it was not a guaranteed thing that Al had been restored to his body. He could have just made things worse by trying to set things right. What a surprise that would be. After all of this, everything he tried to fix seemed to explode in front of his face.

He landed on the ground with a soft thump. The air around him was cool, and had a slight breeze to it; he didn't bother to move. Unlike the last time he had come through the gate, this time, he hadn't inhabited the body of his alter. He was in his original body on the other side of the gate. _Will my automail work here? _He thought to himself. Only one way to find out, he opened his eyes and took in the surroundings. There was a whole bunch of people dressed in odd black hoods and capes decorated with skulls. _Great, I landed in the middle of a freak show. _ Adjusting himself so that he was in a kneeling position, he reached his hands towards to sky, towards the pale moon that reflected the light of the sun.

His automail worked.

A smile found its way across his face, this would make things a much easier; and with that, he got to his feet and looked around. He was in a graveyard; fitting he supposed. The gate had a sense of humor, _is this that things way of telling me that my brother is dead… no he can't be, I followed the law of equivalent exchange, it had to have worked…we had the Philosophers Stone… after all that we have been through, don't I deserve..._

"What have we got here?"

Ed turned around quickly and saw a large bunch of people dressed in black capes and weird hats with skulls as decoration. "What in the world…" this was one of the weirdest things that he had ever seen in his life; an army of people dressed in black capes, witches hats and skull masks. This ranked right up with him and Al; he supposed that from other peoples perspectives, him, and Al looked like a pretty odd pair. _Of course, a seven-foot suit of armor walking around anywhere could be considered weird, especially when a person finds out that the armor didn't have anything inside of it._ But this, all the people in the black capes and odd hats, just standing there as if waiting for orders. The person that they seemed to be taking orders from looked like he had somehow fused himself with a snake.

_So, there is a possibility that you can use alchemy here. But that wouldn't make sense…_

Like the others, he wore black, but not a cape. Instead he wore long billowing robes that seemed to have a life of their own. _Like there is much of a difference between a robe and a cape, he scoffed._ The unusual thing about this is the people seemed to be following the snake – human chimera; definitely odd, considering that the chimeras in his world were looked down upon and feared by the general population that even knew about them. Beside the snake-human-chimera stood a sniveling man that looked as if he like the Gate had somehow messed up and made this man a human instead of a rat. His eyes were nervously darting around.

Hanging around here was not the thing that Ed wanted to do; he had to go and find Hohenheim and get him to tell him how to get back home to Alphonse. There was no way that Ed was going to believe that Hohenheim didn't know a way for him to go back home, no way. Now to get out of this rather awkward situation, "Sorry that I interrupted whatever you were doing here," as an add on he muttered, "have fun wearing the hats." The words had sounded better when he was thinking them admittedly, but they seemed to have done the trick. No one was moving an inch, no one was saying anything. This meant he could go on his way.

It was when he turned his back that something hit him. For some reason he couldn't move his human limbs at all. His automail limbs though, seemed to be unaffected by whatever had hit him. What good could one arm and a leg do him in a situation like this though? Running and other such activities that helped in getting him as far away from a situation like this required that the body be able to move.

"Oh but why leave so soon, you have the honor of being tonight's entertainment. Since you just popped in on us like that. You're so small after all; you probably wouldn't last to long."

Fury clouded Ed senses. He wanted to kill this guy, tear him apart, and transmute his head into a fish. The guy was weird looking already, a fish for a head wouldn't hurt his appearance that much in all consideration. He was NOT SHORT!!!!!!!!!!!!! No matter how much he tried, he could not move. When he could move, he was going to beat this guy into a bloody pulp. No one called him short and got away with it!!!!

One of the people in the black cloaks and weird hats separated from the crowd and walked towards the snake chimera. The snake chimera turned, "perhaps, Master, this boy has been sent to help us with our cause."

"You could be right," the snake chimera turned around and pointed a stick at him. A slight short out of the stick and a tingling sensation was sent through his body. For some reason he could move again. Now he was going to show that thing who was the short person here!!

"Little boy, I will give you one chance to join our noble cause!"

The word join cleared his senses; join… become someone else's dog again. Join… having to bow down and take orders from someone else, and kill people for a cause that you do not understand. Having your freedom taken away from you at less than a moments notice. Having to leave your friends and family behind for seemingly no reason at all.

"OK… so I pop out of nowhere into some weird meeting with people in skull masks and cloaks and I get an invitation to join the club. What the fuck?"  
"It is a noble cause boy."

"Noble or not, I am not that much of a team player. Noble causes tend to scare me."

"We are going to rid of the world of all that is wrong with it."  
"I am sure that there are many things that are wrong with the world, but I don't think that it is my place to determine what stays and what goes."

"So you are refusing Lord Voldemort's kind invitation to join his army of Death Eaters? You could be my most trusted servant."

"I work alone. I'm not about to become one of your mindless toadies!"

"I can give you whatever you want little boy."

Whatever he wanted. What he wanted was to go home and see Al there again, for everything to be as it was before they had tried to transmute their mother. Save the psycho-teacher… But his brother may not even be alive, he might have failed at the transmutation, he might not have been enough to bring his brother back… if only he had the Philosophers Stone. Then he could go back and find out… then he would be able to bring his brother back… then his dream would be fulfilled. He and his brother could be happy again.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SHORT YOU SHORTIE!! I KNOW AT LEAST FIVE OTHER PEOPLE THAT ARE TALLER AND BETTER LOOKING THAN YOU!!! Not that I am saying that I am short."

He ran straight at the snake like creature and tried to punch him the face. The chimera seemed shocked for a moment that someone would have the guts to do that to him. He pointed a stick at him and muttered "Avada Kedevra." The green light hit his right arm, and so therefore he was unaffected by whatever the green light had been. However, the force threw him back onto the grass. Before he had a chance to transmute his arm into a blade, the chimera pointed the stick thing at him and muttered "Petrificus Totalus." This time, the light did not his either his right arm or his leg, making it so he could not move again.

Anger filled his entire being. _That__ was a cheap shot, pointing some stick at me and making it so I can't move… just like that bastard Mustang…I bet he does that because he couldn't handle a punch in the face._

"I guess that means that you would rather take the torture than join me. Oh well, your mistake." He said in a voice that was one-step a way from a laugh and an inch away from being sing-song. "Oh Bella..."

One of the cloaked figures stepped forward; somehow, Ed knew that she was smiling, even though he could not see her face. "I am honored my Lord," she said as she bowed deeply and raised a long wooden stick and pointed it at his head.

This was one of those moments that he had to buy some more time. He had to think of someway to get out of this … whatever they put on him so he couldn't move anymore. This had to be alchemy, a really weird form of it to be sure, but it had to be. Only their form of alchemy defied the law of equivalent exchange... or did it? In order to do whatever they were doing, they had to have those sticks. If they didn't have them, then they were helpless. Weird.

The woman removed her hat to show her face (yup… she is planning on killing him for sure) she laughed out an incantation. Sparks shot out of the end of the stick and suddenly, he was able to move again. Weird… That was it, he would give them his version of weird, "That is one of the weirder weapons that has been pointed at me."

"Oh really?" The woman said with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Yeah, I've had shovels, swords, fists, spears, guns, stones, mobs chasing me, and a hand… arm, but never a stick pointed at me. Now that I think about it, doesn't seem all that terrifying… compared to that guys arm."

"An arm?"  
"Yeh, it was a really muscular one," he said thinking of Scar. It wasn't just the hand that freaked him out a about Scar, the guy was quite literally a mountain of muscle and a religious freak (admittedly he had his reasons considering the environment that he grew up in, but his total fanaticism in his beliefs was disturbing and tended to get on Ed's nerves). The woman just stood there, as if expecting him to come out with more information on why this arm had been so scary. He could tell her that Scar had a transmutation circle on his arm that allowed him to destroy just about anything that he touched but…

"I am sure. No matter, the stronger you are the better! It just means that I get to have more fun tonight! Scream, Scream!" She wasted no more time with the talking. She muttered some word and a blast of light was sent out of the stick. Ed quickly dodged the beam of light. She paused for a second, as if planning on what to do next, then the blasts of light started to come at him faster.

Last time he had gone through the gate, he had not been able to use alchemy at all, he wondered if it would be different here; but for some reason, his internal logic said that he shouldn't try to perform any alchemy here. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the snake chimera point his stick at him; artfully he dodged it, only to be hit by one of the blasts that the girl was sending out. He fell over onto the ground, unable to move; his body writhed in pain, it was slightly similar to the pain that he had felt so many times before, when he had gotten his automail reattached. Only it came in short blasts instead of a long continuous process that was "highly advanced."

He didn't scream. He had to be strong, for Al, for himself. "Is this all you got? I've felt more pain than this before!"

The look in the woman's eyes turned to an even more dangerous shade of wildness than they had before, she screamed out "Crucio!" countless times, in a futile effort to make Ed scream. He didn't. He could hear everyone laughing and calling him short… one day they would all pay for that; he would transmute all there heads into blowfish… into raccoons… into melons… into whatever the fuck he felt like at the time.

Needless to say - the annoying pains that his being was experiencing reminded him vaguely of automail surgery. He had been in way more pain in his life… like when he had gotten his arm and leg taken from him. It had been his leg first; getting all that information crammed into his brain from the trip through the gate. Yeh… produced something akin of a migraine. Then the leg… that had been painful.

But he had gone on.

He had lost his brother. So, despite the fact that he was very rapidly loosing blood because of his leg, he had still been able to transmute his brother soul to a suit of armor. Successfully transmute his brother into a suit of armor. That was no small feat. It had come at a cost though. His arm.

Still, he had gone on.

He had been able to explain to his brother (after his brother had come to) about what he had done to him. Then, explain about what happened to their mother. While bleeding profusely from his arm and his leg, (ah, happy memories of childhood). Al had carried him to Winry's house. But, it hadn't ended there. He hadn't conked out and let Winry and Pinako take of him and feed him chicken soup. No. He had stayed awake long enough to hear them talking with Roy Mustang.

Then he had conked out.

The next day, much to the surprise of everyone, he had decided to get automail. The surgery had been a bitch. It had gone on for most of the day and the rehabilitation process was about the most annoying (not to mention painful) thing had gone through in his life. After a year of hard work, he had come out of it, able to use his automail. There had been some little kinks with the automail, like always wearing long pants, long sleeved shirts, and gloves on hot days in order to prevent himself from getting burned from the sun.

People wondered why he hated deserts.

So, in view of all of this, he really couldn't call what was happening now especially painful. Compared to everything else that had happened to him.

"He shouldn't be sane by now my dear Bella"

"I guess, but it was hardly any fun… he didn't scream… like the Longbottoms did." She said in a pouty voice, complete with weirdly cute eyes. "Now those two people were so much fun to torture, I can still hear their screams when I close my eyes." Creepy. Ed's mind began to draw some other, fairly disturbing, images of what else might go on in Bella's mind.

Yup. She is a sadist if he ever saw one. Kind of reminded him of… nah. What disturbed him most about the woman was the way that she talked of how much she missed torturing those people. the tone in her voice… almost like she was dreaming of her last great lay… People called him a freak for wearing a coat and gloves in the desert… they should open their eyes and meet this woman. She was a true freak if he ever saw one.

"Bella, Bella… my most faithful servant. Let us leave."

"Of course my lord."

Then, they just disappeared. He got up, shakily, and looked around with bleary eyes. The moon was still full and bright in the sky; the silence around him brought some comfort, needed peace of mind. Where would he go now? He had no home, no family, no money, no… nothing. All he had were the goals that he had set for himself – that he would never give up and that he would make things right again. The only thing left for him to do was to find a way to get home, but how could he do that? He didn't even know if he could use alchemy in this world or not.

He probably could.

"No time like the present," he said. He was going to transmute his cloths so they looked like they were… well in better condition than they were at the moment. Then, he could make out the figure of a man with an out of place eye, and a woman with VERY pink hair. _I guess I will wait until later to find out whether or not I can use my alchemy here… I just don't think I want anyone to know that I have skills in alchemy… I don't want to become someone else's dog. _


	2. Chapter 2

Half Pain

Disclaimer – I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter. They belong to their respective creators…

Authors note – I really appreciate all the reviews that I am getting on this story. I thrive off of attention and reviews… so the more you review, the more that I will be inclined to update this story and make the chapters longer. Ideas and opinions are welcome to, as is constructive criticism – but no flaming. If I make a mistake that bothers you… or that you notice… please tell me.

Other than that, on with the show!

Chapter two – The curse of the Truth

It was a fact that none of Severus Snape's classes were ever considered fun. It was just not heard of for a teacher like him to give the students a break from his constant criticism and let them have fun. Hermione doubted that the word was even in his vocabulary. Yet, during their third year in Hogwarts, there had been one class that had been considered fun by some people, a pain in the neck by most.

Funny enough, no one had ever talked of the class the day after it had happened. It was as if it never happened. The class had started out as they normally did, with Snape going on dryly and finding some way to praise Draco Malfoy and take points off Gryffindor. Then he had announced the day's assignment – make a potion that would enable you to see your true love.

But with the mention that it would be a love potion, all the girls in the class were suddenly very excited about Potions. Rumors immediately started to fly that Snape had fallen in love and was taking on a new leaf in life. At the front of the classroom, Snape stood, calmly lecturing about how the potion was supposed to be brewed, what materials were needed to make it, and how it should look when it was finished. It was fairly obvious to Hermione that he could hear the girls talking, but he didn't do anything about it. He just stood there, smiling and lecturing, confusing her.

The strange thing was that no one else in the class seemed to notice the oddities of Snape's actions. Even if he was in love, wouldn't he still be finding every way he could to give points to Slytherin and take off from Gryffindor? Wouldn't he have done something to his hair? Made the classroom a bit lighter? Washed his hair? Gotten a tan? What sense was there in brewing a love potion to celebrate the fact that you had just found love?

But the reasons why he had the class brew the potion were not really that important, compared to the consequences that the potion brought. Without giving any history on the potion, who had invented it or even what the effects would be, he set the class to work. No partners allowed. At first, everyone was fairly orderly and silent, but round the time that Neville started to have some trouble, Snape went over and helped him. "No use in wasting such a lovely cauldron," was his comment to the class (both Slytherins and the Gryffindors were staring at him in equal shock by this point in time). After this, the class erupted into a merry bought of chattering.

It never occurred to me that Snape would have a sense of humor. But at seeing as to what it might be, then I conclude that he must have a very odd and disturbing sense of humor. The potion, to him, must have been part joke and part revenge for having to put up with us dunderheads for so long. Either that or to strike the fear of god into us _if he can do that… then who knows what else he can do_

Even though it was the hardest potion that they had brewed so far, most of the people in the class had gotten it right, and again, no house points were taken off for getting it wrong. For those who didn't succeed, Snape offered a class later on that day to show them how to brew it right. The people took this as an 'or else I will murder you in your sleep' thing, but maybe by going to this class and brewing it right would make him stay nice for the rest of the year. For those who had brewed the potion right, he inspected it carefully and told us "Drink this right before you close your eyes and go to sleep, you will see your truest and deepest love while you dream." Snape smiled all while he was saying this and then added in a much quieter voice, words which few people bothered to listen to. "If you have one."

The girls all squealed at this and ran out of the classroom, eager for night to come so they could at last see the one that they were meant to be with. The rest of the day was filled with talk of the potion. All the girls were speculating on who their true loves would be. The guys pretended to be disinterested, but it was obvious the potion was on their minds just as well.

And that night, for better or worse, everyone drank down the vial of potion that they had brewed in class.

That night was the worst night of Hermione's life. Not everyone's life, she learned, was as easy as hers. Going to school, preparing to face a dark lord, living a soft and cushy life without having to worry to much about what was going to happen today or tomorrow. Hermione and her friends had adults to look after them and guide them on paths that would lead to easy lives. They would live and die comfortably, without ever feeling too much pain, without having to worry or carry the burden of sins that they had committed.

She saw an image of a boy. Hazy, really, just fleeting impressions, a face she could not see that well. She thought he might have blondish hair and odd colored eyes, that his skin had a slight bit of a tan to it, though overall it was pale. He was laying in the arms of a huge suit of armor, his right arm and left leg were gone. His blood was dripping off the suit of armor, pooling on the floor. Through the armor a child's voice begged, "Please, help him! He's going to bleed to death!"

"Al, is that you?" A girl with long blond hair spoke. An old withered woman was standing beside her, and for a moment both were frozen into place, knowing what to do but too shocked to do it. What struck her as the most strange was the suit of armor seemed to be the thing that she could see the best. It just a just a hunk of metal, with large protruding spikes, but somehow despite its scary appearance… it didn't seem all that scary. _How was the suit of armor walking and talking… I've never seen anything like that before and those red eyes, who ever heard of having eyes that were that color? Isn't it impossible? _Hermione didn't see what happened next. It was at that point that she woke up in a cold sweat, shivering, a moment away from screaming her lungs out at what she had just seen.

She crept out of bed and snuck down into the common room, set on doing some of the homework she had set aside for the next day. Sleep was a precious thing for her, something she had to get enough of in order to pass her classes, but after seeing that she just couldn't sleep.

The next day in class, everything had gone back to the way that it had been before. We were to be silent at all times, take careful notes, and, of course, Snape took every opportunity to take points from Gryffindor and give them to Slytherin. It was as if the class the day before had never happened. The girls didn't talk about the potion, and neither did the boys. At the end of the year, when the exams came up, the love potion was not on them, even though it had been the hardest potion that Snape had the class brew that year.

Hermione had thought at the time that the dream was a one night deal. But every night since then, she had seen the life of her true love. The dreams didn't seem to be in chronological order. Nor were they always what was going on in his life. Sometimes they told me what was going on in the life of his enemies, something he seemed to have a lot of, or his friends and coworkers. Memories of what had happened to him in his childhood were common, as were nightmares of what had occurred when he had been training with an odd woman with dreadlocks. Regret for what he had done – though Hermione was never quite sure what he had done – was on his mind the most. The want to somehow fix it, and return things to the way that they had been once was the dream that he had.

The most shocking thing of all was that whatever it was he had done, he had entered the military in order to fix it.

At first, she had really hated the fact that every time she closed her eyes and entered the realm of sleep, she would see him, but after a while one learns to accept. This was not to say that the dreams and his life got any better; if anything they got worse. The boy seemed to go everywhere with that suit of armor. It was hard to look at armor the same; even armor that was charmed to walk around and do stuff didn't behave like the armor in her dreams. She could never look at armor the same way again.

But the real problem turned out to be hiding her emotions and feelings from others – mainly Ron and Harry. After seeing what happened in _his_ life on a day to day basis, she couldn't help but felt that sometimes Harry was little more than a spoiled brat who refused to accept what had been given to him.

_Though, on further contemplation,_ Hermione realized, _not everyone can deal with things the way that he can._ Not everyone was willing to enter the military at the age of twelve. Some people want to do the right thing, but they take an easier, more round about way of doing it. But… what was easy about defeating a powerful dark lord? Wouldn't it be logical to spend your time dutifully studying the dark arts, learning countercurses, and thinking of ways that you could possibly defeat him? You couldn't just accomplish something of that magnitude without a bit of work.

It seemed to her that Harry didn't do enough work. Luck was a feeble ally, and in the past six years of knowing him, every time he had succeeded at fending someone off or freeing someone of something it had depended heavily on pure luck and coincidence. Not to say that Harry didn't work hard. It was just…

"Never mind," she said aloud.

Ginny and Ron Looked over at her, bringing her back to reality. How long had she been spacing out and thinking about this?

"Hermione dear, I think that it is about time that you started to get home," Mrs Weasley said in a hurried tone. Darkness had passed about an hour ago. Because her parent had gone to a concert, Hermione had told the Weasleys that she would be staying a bit later than normal. No use in taking unneeded risks. Looking at the time, though, it would seem logical that even they should be home.

"Nobody leaves!" Moody's booming voice announced as he slammed open the door. "Death Eaters are out on the loose." Beside Moody was Tonks, and a boy in a red, slightly tattered jacket.

"Oh, Moody, Tonks, dear, nice to see you. What happened?" Mrs. Weasley said in an overly concerned tone.

"Well, we got there after the attack and we found this boy, alive amazingly, and a few other muggles dead. Seen any sign of Dumbledore? I know that he had something to do tonight, but…"

"No, I think that he will be here soon, he did say that he would stop here and drop off Harry after they visited someone."

"New defense teacher?" Inquired Tonks.

"No, new potions teacher, he didn't say who it was, really…"

The small talk was fading quickly. It was apparent that the adults wanted to question the boy, but they wanted Dumbledore to be there for the questioning. They also did not want the Ministry to get their hands on the boy before they had found out what he knew. The boy took their gazes in with an almost emotionless expression on his face. You could tell that he was tired and all he really wanted to do was sleep, but he would keep on moving on as long as he had to.

Mrs. Weasley was the first to talk, "Hello dear, my name is Molly Weasley, and yours?"

"Edward Elric, but you may call me Ed," he said in a short crisp tone, obviously annoyed at the fact that he had to be here.

"Ed, so how old are you?"

"I am 16 right now, but soon enough I will be seventeen."

It was at this point that Ron decided to open his tactless mouth and say, "How can you be sixteen when you are so short?"

The boy's demeanor changed completely – from 'I am tired I want you to sleep but I will stay up anyways' to, "WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT HE WOULD BE LOST AMONGST HYDROGEN ATOMS YOU JERK!!!!" To everyone's surprise, in less than a second he was pinning Ron to the ground, about ready to punch him the face.

"Whoa, hey there buddy, I didn't mean it."

"Like hell you didn't!!! You're just like everyone else, recanting their statements when the going gets tough! Be a man! I'll show you who's smaller than a piece of lint you half pint idiot!!"

It was at this point that Tonks decided to speak up and prevent dear tactless Ronald from getting pummeled into the ground. "Ed, he didn't say any of those things, now calm down and get off of Ron."

Ed turned his head slightly and looked at Tonks, "What do you mean 'He didn't say any of those things'? He called me short! Midget! Dwarf! Small!"

Obviously, Tonks had succeeded in making things worst, rather than better.

While Ed was ranting, Ron had managed to crawl out from underneath him. He sighed in relief and started to head towards me. Ed grabbed his leg and pulled him to the floor. He pinned him there, smirking. I could tell that he was holding back from taking out all the pent up rage on dear Ronald. Moody, Mr. Weasley, and Professor Lupin (who appeared from nowhere) stepped in at this point and literally pulled Ed off of Ron. Then did their best to restrain him.

"Or what are you going to do," he snapped, "point that stick at me and say crucio? Like at the graveyard… how long was it again, oh yeh… an hour of that 'torture.' Hah, like that is going to work, I've put up with much more pain than that before. For a greater amount of time as well. If crucio is the best that you guys have, then that is truly a pathetic thing."

Ron's face paled at Ed's words. I could hear his thoughts perfectly (they were in unison with every one else's in the room at the point) – What the bloody hell? No one, no one could have done that! Everyone else though, shocked at Ed's words all the same, kept their reactions at minimum.

Tonks face grew serious at note of this, "You must have lived a hard life, Edward."

"My name is Ed, not Edward. Only my mother and…" fatal pause, "can call me that and there is no way in hell that you are her. Why did you bring me here anyways, to question me? Think that I am one of them?"

"Times are tough, Ed." Hermione turned around and left the room. She didn't even know if he had said anything back, more or less heard what she had said to him. A headache was slowly taking over her senses, she didn't know why. She wasn't prone to headaches that often. A nice, dark, quiet room and some sleep would get rid of the headache. Problem was that neither of those were going to be available for her at this moment.

Ed and Tonks, possibly Moody by now, were going at it in the other room. Tonks and Moody trying to explain why Ed was here, and Ed saying that he didn't have anything to do with it and he didn't even know what the whole death eater meeting had been about. Of course they didn't believe him, and they would keep him here until Dumbledore arrived. It would come into question as to how they would keep Ed here. It probably had occurred to them that if Ed got to fed up with the situation here, he might fight his way out the door. then it would come into question as to what to do? He had survived crucio for an hour.. and had come out SANE.

Mrs. Weasley, throughout all of this was skittering through the crowd trying to calm them all down (mostly Ed, who seemed very good at exaggerating the arguments of other people). Offering them food, in the case of Professor Lupin who was looking thinner and verging on the point of anorexic. And fussing over minor facts (such as oh dear, there is a hole in your jacket Ed, let me fix it). If she can't feed him then she must find another way to mother him.

_Just need to hope that no one else will be idiotic enough to call him short… might tear down the house if that happened again. _

_Short… Kind of like in my dreams… that boy… Wonder where he is right now? _


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer – I do not own either Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist

Dear Ladies and Gentlemen –

There are been some confusion of what is going on with the plot. To remedy this, my coauthor (Lord Regal's Bane) and I are adding in parts to the first few chapters and some of the later chapters (up until chapter 7) to help you understand what is going on. Mainly with Sirius. After that, I am going to assume that you all will understand what is going on. Trust me, the explanation in chapter seven will be long and drawn out and will so utterly clear that crystal will not compare to it.

I am under the strict notion that the story should tell itself. There should not be a long authors note at the beginning telling the reader what is going on. That is sloppy. If, after chapter seven, the plot is still not clear, please leave me a detailed review as to why this is so. I will do my best to add in content so that it will be clear.

In fact, it was because of a review that I took the time to add in all this wonderful content.

I would personally like to thank Jonna for all her considerate reviews and for bringing some points into perspective that I would have never thought about.

Half Pain

Chapter Three – The Theory of Flamel

_In the Ministry of Magic, there is a book that records the name of every witch and wizard that is ever born. On their 11__th__ birthdays, they are sent a letter that invites them to attend a magic school. The book never makes mistakes. Until this night, that is. _

_The book sensed a presence; a new wizard, one that it had never recorded when he was at birth. But, how could this be? The book had never missed recording a new witch or wizard. The book flipped back the pages, sixteen years of pages, andcorrected the mistake dutifully. _

_Elric, Edward. Son of Phillipus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim (Paracelus) and Trisha Elric_

_Everything was now perfect, just the way it should be. _

They had banished him to the back of the house. Well, not really banished him. He had gone there willingly; he had been awake for so long, he needed to get some sleep in order to function properly. He was not himself right now and he wouldn't be until he did get some sleep. Now that the opportunity was here, though, his mind refused to go into the lovely darkness that was sleep. So, instead, he just laid on top of the bed, uncovered, as he stared out the window trying identify the few constellations that he knew. Letting his mind go dormant.

A night like this had occurred to many times to count; at first the slight insomnia had bothered him. After awhile, however, he had gotten used to it and had learned to use it for his benefit. He would force his body to slow down and take a rest. Sometimes after many hours passed this way, his mind would sleep. Sometimes, that wouldn't happen. Either way, he eventually got the rest that his body and mind needed. His mind needed some time to process all of the recent events it stored: the transmutation when he tried to bring back Al, the events in the graveyard with the odd sticks and the snake chimera, and now, the happenings in the house.

Dealing with people wasn't his forte.

Basically, they thought that he was in league with "You-know-who" and wanted to know what "You-know-who's" plans were. After the little "scuffle" in the hallway with the jerk who called him short, they had dragged him into the kitchen and began to questioning him. After telling them the same half-truth about five times (he was visiting the grave of his mother and he wanted some peace and quiet while he was reminiscing) they had threatened him with a truth potion. It was at this time that the one who called herself Mrs. Weasley had come in and started to badger them, "He's only a boy! You don't have to be so hard on him, and why can't I give him something to eat? He looks like he's hungry, and finally, let's wait until Dumbledore gets here with Harry."

Eventually, she had made such a fuss about their treatment of the 'boy' that the others gave in and stopped questioning him. But, what else was there to do except ask questions? The woman had tried to feed him but he had declined any food. Not that he believed that there was actually such a thing as truth potions or whatnot, but… it didn't hurt to be a bit careful when in a strange world. He had no interest in hanging out with any of the others, or talking with anyone; he just wanted to get up and leave.

That is why they had put him in the room back here. Until Dumbledore had arrived… they didn't trust him at all, and Ed couldn't really blame them. He didn't trust them at all, either. Times were tough for everyone. But… it did really annoy him that they were keeping him here. Then again, he did not have anywhere to go and nothing that he could really say that was better to do. The last time that he had been sent through the Gate, the world that he had 'landed in' had been unable to use alchemy. This world, well, what they were doing looked like alchemy, however, it defied the law of equivalent exchange.

They called it magic. He called them stupid… no, ignorant was a better word for them. It was definitely alchemy… if only he could get his hands on one of those stick and take a closer look at it, then he could figure out how the hell they were doing… whatever they were doing. What could they do to him anyways? Torture him? They would have to find something a bit more effective than their little "crucio" to get him to scream out in pain. He would have to wait until later to see if he would be able to use his form of alchemy, mainly because he got the distinct feeling that it wouldn't be safe to do that sort of thing here.

Lying down on the bed was getting him nowhere, so he decided to pace around the room. The room was cluttered with odd items, candy wrappers, a large birdcage, and badly taken care of books. He thought of going and looking in the books for information, until a piece of paper caught his eye. It looked like a newspaper article. He picked it up and held it to the moonlight.

"Nicholas Flamel Leaves Fortune to the Son of Hohenheim!"

"What the hell," he whispered to himself. "I thought that this guy didn't even exist… that he was dead…" In Amestris, Nicholas Flamel was only a legend. But then again, in a way (although he sincerely hated to admit it), so was that BASTARD that called himself his father. Urg! Why did Al always have to go on and on about him…

Pushing the thoughts of Hohenheim out of his mind, he concentrated fully on his brother. Thinking of his father and all of the suffering he had caused made Ed very angry. All that they had gone through because of him past and present actions made him mad. Now was not the time for that. Now was time for quick, discreet actions like the ones that led him to the stone.

He read the rest of the newspapers, in an effort to glean as many facts as he could about this world from it. He learned that, besides having a corrupted government like his back at him, they were of course having problems with this "You-Know-Who" guy (the snake chimera from before), and they were in the process of trying to find some escaped criminals. The most notorious being Sirius Black. Apparently, he had been the first of many to escape from Azkaban, the local prison. Something that no one had ever done before. Ever since he had escaped, no one had been able to find him. He had been seen at Hogwarts twice, but other than that, no sitings of any merit had been reported.

Gazing out of the window, he noticed two red dotes circling each other in the moonlit sky. _They must be birds, very large birds. They have such freedom up there in the sky, I wonder what it would be like to fly, to be free of responsibility. _The picture that they showed of Sirius Black showed a man that was laughing insanely, in tattered prison clothes, holding his number for the camera. Laughing insanely. No mind that the picture moved, he suspected that it wouldn't be the weirdest thing that he would encounter in this world. "This looks more like a man that is laughing from an insane amount of grief, not a murderer… but what the hell do I know, I'm just a kid after all."

He quickly scanned the newspaper for more details, then threw the newspaper on the floor and left the room. He would have to visit this Flamel and see what information he could get out of him, before he passed onto the gate. As quietly as he could, Ed snuck around the shadows of the house; hoping to gain some information on what was going on here. After he gained some information, maybe he would consider escaping from these mad people and finding a way home. Once he got down the stairs, he saw that everyone in the room was crowded around two people.

The first one that he noticed was an old man with a long silver bread and half-moon glasses balanced at the tip of his nose. The classic wizard type figure that storybooks portrayed all the time… _It's been so long since I read anything just for the fun of it, all I ever do is work and study_. The one that was standing beside him was a rather unextraordinary looking boy with messy black hair and a weird scar on his forehead. The idiot boy was crowding near him and saying something that Ed could not pick up. The girl with wild brown hair was at a table with two other girls; one with red hair like the idiot boy and the other was the one with pink hair that had been questioning him earlier.

There seemed to be more people in the room since he had last left, and all of them dressed in the same weird way the people in the graveyard had been. Except without the whole look of death on them. They all conformed to the basic stereotypical idea of storybook witches and wizards, which did not make any sense to him. _Magic cannot exist, it is scientifically impossible. You cannot create something out of nothing and that is the entire principle that magic is built upon – creating something out of nothing. _

"Dumbledore, you really need to stay here and question the boy yourself. Something is not normal about him, just before Molly sent him up to get some rest, he said that he had been through worst pain than the cruciatus curse. To think that there is something worse than that… I just cannot wrap my head around it. And before that, Tonks and Moody caught him he had been in the graveyard with the Death Eaters. He might know something valuable."

"I will then Moody; Rufus and dear Nicholas will have to wait until later." The old man turned around to face the boy more directly and said, "Harry, go and join your friends. No need to stand beside me. Kingsley Shacklebolt?"

"Yes, Dumbledore?"

"Go to the Ministry and quietly find out any information on Edward, specifically whether he is magical or a muggle, where he is from, and who his parents are. If he is a wizard then all the information should be in the book."

The boy and the idiot separated from the old man and headed in Ed's direction. The bushy haired girl nodded a few times at what the other girls were saying and then joined the two boys only a few feet from where Ed was hiding. Either he had gotten much better at being discreet or they were just blind. When the girl joined them, she sat right in front of him.

"So, Harry, how were things at the Dursleys?"

"Bad as ever, I wish that things would change there, I wish that Dudley didn't get everything he wanted, that they would stop treating me like …. They do. I wish Dumbledore would stop making me go back there every summer. I wish I could have a fun summer vacation like everyone else has…"

"Can't really go out that much with Sirius Black still on the loose can you?" The red haired boy said.

"Yeh… it would figure. There were only a few sighting of him in our third year and since then, nothing. No trace of him whatsoever."

"You would think that they would search his house in London for him."

"Are you crazy? No one can enter the Black house. No one would want to…. that house is enchanted so that only a Black can enter it. Under the circumstances, I would say that the enchantments are aligned so that only…"

"No one cares about the house Hermione. And either way, how do you know all that stuff?"

"Some people in this world actually take some time to read Ronald!"

"But why would you want to read about that? It is a ratty old house in London."

"That ratty old house has some of the most fascinating protections spells on it. Some of them are one of a kind and few people actually know the full details of…"

"Again Hermione, no one cares about that house. So rotten looking on the outside and it is probably not too different on the inside. I can't really blame Black for not hiding in his own house with the shape that it is in. I wonder if it has a house-elf?"

"I should hope not!! The Blacks in general are sketchy people, but I would hope that they would have the decency to not enslave a poor house-elf."

"Oh Hermione for the love of peace, come off of that! And if they did have a house-elf, I wonder what that thing is doing?"

"You would think that they would put in a double effort to find him and the other prisoners that escaped."

"At least they are acknowledging that You-Know-Who is back," the girl added in.

"Some good that is doing… So, who is this boy that Moody is going on about?"

"Cracked, if…"

"Ron, please, have more tact please? It is rude to say those sorts of things about people."

"Well it's true! He just about killed me because I called him short. Besides, it is not like he is right here listening to everything we say or anything…" _If you only knew buddy… if you only knew._

"Serves you right, you shouldn't have called him short anyways, it is rude."

"And he shouldn't have jumped on me. Doesn't that qualify as rude?"

"You're so dense, Ron, that I doubt anything else would have gotten through to you!"

"Ah, you're just saying that because you have a crush on him." Wait a minuet. Hold on. Not again. Now from time to time when he had been back home, it had been necessary to call attention to himself in order to get what he wanted. But there was one sort of attention that he had never really like – the attention that women, unmarried women, would give him. He never knew how to react to that and he didn't want to turn out to be a pervert like all those other guys in the military were. _Just pray that it is just a joke, I don't need an Edward Elric Fanclub here._

"I do…"

"Don't try and deny it Hermione, you were staring at him all googly eyed the entire time, and then you were all depressed when he had to go upstairs."

"I do not have a crush on him, Ron… Besides he sounded like he would be an intelligent person to talk to. Unlike you two," she huffed.

"Gosh, Hermione, I didn't know that you were into short guys…"

_Short! Who were they to call me short? Is everyone but me part giant or something?_ Ed leapt out of the shadows, barely missing the brown haired girl they called Hermione, and landed in front of Harry. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING A PIPSQUICK! A DWARF SO SHORT THAT NO ONE CAN SEE HIM, YOU JERK!" The boy's large green eyes widened, "You must all be part giant or something because – I AM NOT SHORT! I'M STILL GROWING YOU IDIOTS!" And with that Ed did the most logical thing in the world: with his brother or anyone not bothering to restrain him, he punched the boy in the face.

The boy didn't even dodge. He didn't even try and put up a fight. He just kind of laid there after Ed delivered the punch. Ed had seen kids give better fights than that. _Why are people making such a big fuss about him, he doesn't seem that extraordinary at all. He's practically calling for mommy after just one hit!_

"Harry, are you alright?" Mrs. Weasley immediately ran over to the boy and tried to help him stand up. He pushed her aside, "What was that for?"

"For calling me short."

"Well, you didn't have to react so violently."

"Oh please, it's your fault for being so weak. I've seen girls take and give punches a lot better than you. Hell, I've seen little kids who can give punches a lot better than you can, I bet. You do wave around one of those little sticks? You know what your greatest weakness is? All you rely so heavily on that stick that when you're disarmed, you're completely defenseless. You can't do magic without one of those, am I correct?"

Everyone in the room was silent; this was a piece of information that no one wanted to hear at the very least, especially form a possible enemy. However, Ed had more to say, much more… but at this point, it might be better to keep silent. Discretion was a very important thing… here at least.

"So, I assume that you must be Edward Elric." the old man with the funny eyes addressed him with a hard tone in his voice. "If you will, come with me into the kitchen where we can talk about… the current situation."

Ed silently followed the old man into the kitchen, but took the time to look behind him to see the look on the boy Harry's face. It was the look of shock that Ed had dared punch him (to, to, to priceless). Edward had seen the look many times from many people he had – or had tried to but failed because Al had held him back – punched or swung around. The looks that he would get were priceless, and like the classic sociopath, Ed did not care that he had done something that was initially morally considered as wrong.

Except for Colonel Bastard, no one had ever called him short again after what he did to them. It was an effective way to teach people, and if people didn't like it then they could blame Izumi for it. Sure, he had the temper before he went to train with her, but… she had helped him channel and focus it a bit more, although his temper would never match hers.

"So, Edward, the others have told me that you might be involved with the Death Eaters."

Interrogations were so boring. "I have no idea who or what Death Eaters are."

"Is that so? If that is true, then why were you at the graveyard tonight?"  
This reminded him of the time that he had been in Aquroya, "I was visiting the grave of my mother. I wanted to do it in peace, just as I said before."

"Really? So your mother is dead?"  
That eye that he had on was really annoying. _If Winry were here right now, she would want to take it apart and see how it works. It is so unfortunate that he is so stupid._ "You would think that when I say going to visit her at her grave, right? Nah… she's alive. She just likes being six feet underground in a wooden casket a whole lot."

Silence. People looking at people. Trying to determine what to do next, and not getting anywhere with the subject. Still waiting for this Shaklebolt… Kingsley guy to get here with the information. No one seemed to be able to understand what sarcasm what. "So then you live with your father. What is he like?"

_Yup, I am the child sociopath here… they are trying to see if there will be anyway that they can salvage me. _Ed sighed. _Now is the time in which I will have to be creative._ "That man can go to hell for all I care. He's spent the past month drinking and flirting with any woman he can snare."

"So it is a hard family situation that you have at home then. And you say that you are not a member of the Death Eaters?"

"I am telling you that I don't even know who or what the bloody freaking hell they are, now just cut all the crap!"

At that moment, that a figure burst into the kitchen. "I got it Dumbledore, I got it!"

"'Bout time, Shacklebolt." Moody, the person who had been interrogating him all this time, grumbled. Most intelligent thing the man had said all night.

"It says in the record book that Edward Elric's parents are named Trisha and…"

"And…" continued Moody

"Well, his father had a very long name, a very unusual name, but I do remember that his last name is not Elric and his first name was Philippus."

"I see… Thank you, Kingsley." _Oh… so now the old man decided to start talking…._ "Well then, Mr. Elric, I see we have a choice here. I have never had an Elric attend my school before and I would be honored if you came… although, there are some fairly strict rules regarding violence. If you hurt another student then I will be forced to either give you detention or to expel you."

Everyone in the room stared at him. He had considerably lost any popularity after the whole hitting Harry in the face thing (why was this boy so special to them?), although he couldn't understand why. He had no where else to go. This odd science… magic… might be a way to get him home. They might have some knowledge of the philosopher's stone; or they might even have another way to make the stone, a way that did not involve killing thousands of people. Also, there was an almost insane need within him to prove what these guys were doing was not magic, but simply a modified form of alchemy.

"Alright, I'll go."

"Excellent, Mr. Elric. An owl will be sent to your place of residence two days from now, and will include a list of supplies needed for the upcoming school year. You look like you could be in first year…"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT HE WOULD GET LOST IN A STACK OF BOOKS AND NEVER BE FOUND, YOU OVER GROWN JERK!!! I AM 16 YEARS OLD AND STILL GROWING, YOU MERLIN WANNA-BE DIMWIT!!!!!"

The old man blinked twice in reaction to Ed's outburst and then kept on speaking, as if nothing had happened. "16 then? You will be placed in with the other 6th years, which includes Harry, Ronald, and Hermione. Now that things are settled," he turned around and faced Moody and a few others that had gathered behind him. This included Tonks, a rather raggedy looking fellow, and Mrs. Weasley. "I hope that I will not take advantage of your courtesy, but I must ask you to keep Mr. Elric until morning."

"Where are you going now Dumbledore?"

"I am, unfortunately, going to have to put off meeting with Rufus until the morning. I need to go and see dear Nicholas before the school year starts again."

"Nicholas? Do you mean Nicholas Flamel? The one who made the philosophers stone?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry, I do mean that same Nicholas. Now if you will excuse me…" With a loud crack, the old man disappeared. All Ed could think was, _what the hell? _Ed had heard of Flamel in one of the many books that he had read while he searching for the philosopher's stone, but Flamel had been nothing more than a myth or legend in his world. If it was really true that Flamel was alive in this world, then Ed was going to pay Flamel a visit and make him tell all the information that existed on this side of the gate about the philosophers stone.

That was the only thing that he could do at this point.


	4. Chapter 4

Half Pain

Disclaimer – I do not own either of the stories that I am writing about.

I appreciate all the reviews that I have been getting. They have been most helpful. Keep on leaving them so that I can make this story better.

Chapter four – The Death of Faith

It was in her third year that Hermione had gotten to glimpse the truth behind what her world was. What made everything tick around here, in the magical world. But, the truth was something that was hidden and if you wanted to know it, (key thing is that you didn't know that what you were searching for was the truth) then you would have to work. At the time, she had just been trying to get through school and do the best that she can. She wanted to be the best, she wanted to help people out, and make the world a better place. What better thing to do than to try and work for the Ministry of Magic, at the 10th level, in the Department of Mysteries?

It was at that time she heard the word uttered again – alchemy. The only other time she had heard the word was when they had been searching for the philosopher's stone in their first year at Hogwarts. For one form of magic, it had a lot of different names, something that she found very odd. The truest art, the lost art, the Grand Arcane, and possibly The Grand Arcanum… so many names… it was the stress and the dedication that overcame her, maybe the growing mistrust of the ministry too, or the lack of sleep that was starting to get to her. She refused to go on with the program at the end of her third year. No more of the truth for her, she would find her own way to make her mark on the world, however that would be. Besides, who really needs the truth of things anyways? All it did was cause pain or was that lies cause the pain instead?

She tossed around in her bed, for about a week she had not been able to sleep overly well. The dreams that plagued her every sleeping moment had taken an unusually violent twist. They had been running from some odd opponent that unlike Voldemort, had actually infiltrated the higher ranks in the military and seemed to be in control of the government. Rather than trying to topple the government and make a new one, they had gone for the alternate route, which seemed to be more effective and destructive than the one that Voldemort was using.

It seemed now they had finally gotten to the right root of the problem. From there, it was fuzzy as to what really happened. The suit of armor disappeared and only the boy was left. All his thoughts were on the suit of armor, and for once, they were as clear as crystal, "It was all my fault brother." The phrase was repeated endlessly in his head, amidst endless cloudy thoughts on how to fix the situation (none of the solutions made any sense to her). He seemed really upset about the suit of armor being gone obviously, but what confused her is that how could a suit of armor be the boys brother. He must be deluding himself in some way or another. After that, she didn't know what happened to the both of them. She hadn't been able to sleep. Ah, the joys of insomnia.

Utang na Loob – a muggle term – defined the relationship between her "love" and the suit of armor very well. Simple speaking, Utang na Loob was a debt that could never be repaid. Each of them owed each other something that they could never repay each other, yet they kept on trying to give the other something in return for what they had done. She wished she knew what was actually going on in their lives. There was no use in sitting around, if no sleep will come, no sleep will come. She got out of bed and headed downstairs, no one would be down there, it was an hour until the sun rose, but she could at least enjoy the sunrise.

When she reached the bottom on the stairs she noticed one lone figure sitting on a chair facing the window. The mysterious temperamental boy, Edward Elric. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Insomnia, I've had it ever since I was a little kid, but I've always acted like I was sleeping so my brother wouldn't worry about me. But the tiredness gets to you after a time, makes you dopey."

"Yeh it does, doesn't help with the homework. Some people think that it would… but it really doesn't. You feel tired but you just can't fall asleep."

"Never affected me when I was studying."

"You must be a genius." She said as she sat in a nearby chair. "I know its awkward having people tell you how smart you are; gosh I get that all the time. But in reality, I am not that smart, I need to study so hard for the grades that I do get." People said that she was a genius a lot, but it was not true. She really did need every hour of study that she got in order to get to where she was. Over the years though, she had gotten better at it, thanks to a good book on memory her mother had gotten her at the end of her third year. She didn't know how she could have gone on without having read that book. Proved that muggle things can have just as much merit as the things in the wizarding world.

"I must be. That's what everyone says to me, but I don't see it. Anyone can do what I have done if they work hard at it. Hey, who was that guy who Tonks went off with? Y'know the one with the scratches all over his face and the sandy blond hair."

"Eh? Why are you so interested?"

He smirked and then relaxed his face into a sigh, "Just trying to get a feel for what's going on around here that's all. Besides, we don't have anything better to talk about; I find it kind of awkward to go on about how intelligent I am."

"Oh well, I think that Tonks is in love with Prof, I mean Remus…"

"Who is Remus?"  
"Oh, that guy with the sandy blond hair you were talking about? That is Remus."

"I see. Go on."

"I think that Tonks is in love with Remus," she said in an unsure tone. She did not often talk with Tonks, rather she just listened to what she was talking about with other people. Since she was a kid, she had never been able to get along with or understand people of her own gender. But from what she could pick up it did sound like Tonks did have a crush on Professor Lupin… no Remus. He was not her professor anymore. "I know its awkward having people tell you how smart you are; gosh I get that all the time. But in reality, I am not that smart, I need to study so hard for the grades that I do get."

"Yeah… You can kind of tell by the way she is acting that she has a crush on him. But what about Remus?"

"I don't really know about him, I don't really talk to him all that much. I don't think that they will be able to be together though."

"Why?"

"Um," she didn't know quite what to say at this point. Could Ed be trusted with this information… could Ed be trusted at all? "Hey Ed, this may seem like an odd question but you might know the answer."

He said nothing, he just raised an eyebrow.

"Do you know what a chimera is? I ran into the word in a book that I was reading and they didn't give a clear definition of it. I haven't been able to find out in any other book what the word means and I thought that…"

He started to laugh softly, "Why should I tell you anything like that when you won't tell me anything? Everything has a price."

"Not true. Magic doesn't have a price."

"Fool. It does. More of a price that you could ever know I bet. What makes you think that I know anything about a 'chimera' as you call it anyways? I am just an innocent bystander. Besides, even if I did know something, I have no reason to tell you anything that I might know about what a chimera is. Simple as that."

"Then that means that you do know something! Please. I'll do anything to know!"

"Anything? Fine then. You can make a deal with a person your friends deem to be the devil. All you have to do in order to get me to tell you the information on chimeras is trust me."

Trust.

"Part of the deal would also include you swearing to me that you will not blab all the information out to anyone else, and that includes both Harry and Ron. I do not know what they would do with it. Nor do I know how anyone would react to the information that I would give you about chimeras. I am sure that even here, such a subject is extremely sensitive. But who knows? It might be useful for you to know about such things… for the sake of knowing."

"You don't trust them?"

"Why should I? They have given me no reason to trust them, just like I have given them no reason to trust me."

Oh. Right. We don't trust him, so he doesn't trust us.

"So all I have to do is trust you?"

"Yes."

"Okay... Does that mean that I will have to make an unbreakable vow or something?" Immediately, she regretted saying that. Ed's eyes lighted up at the mention of this. A definite way to make sure that she would not betray him and if she did, consequences would come her way. Gruesome.

"I'll have to think on that one, and besides, if an unbreakable vow involves those stick thing and magic… then I couldn't do one right now because I don't have a stick on me. Or a desire to do any magic. Lets go outside and get some fresh air. Whatever you want to know about chimeras can and will wait until a later time, to perform the vow and exchange the information that we both seem to need. When we are not surrounded by idiots."

He got out of the chair that he was sitting in and headed towards the door. Strangely, or not, she got up and followed him out the door. Maybe some fresh air would do her some good. Maybe it would help her go to sleep. Never hurts to try something.

When he got outside, he turned around to face her, touched her on the shoulder and said, "Tag. You're it." Then he took off running.

No matter how hard Hermione tried, she could not seem to catch Ed. Part of it must be the fact that she spent so little time running around and doing physical activities. But that was all right; the rush of endorphins that came along with the activity were already affecting her brain, and she just couldn't bring herself to stop running. It felt so good. Maybe she should start doing things like this more often, not tag per se, but running, jumping, working out in some odd way or another. If not for her health, for the rush of endorphins that came along with the physical activity. She could hear Ed laughing, laughing, laughing. Not a demented laugh either, just a normal, almost pleasurable laugh. It felt good to act like a kid again.

Woof.

That was definitely not a laugh. She kept on chasing Ed. Then, suddenly, he stopped. She ran up to him and (deservingly) hit him on his left shoulder and said, "Tag, you're it."

"Does that dog belong to the Weasleys?"

She turned around that and faced the dog. It was one of the largest dogs that she had ever seen before in her life. Its black fur was mangy and unkept, giving it the appearance of a stray. But, some dog owners kept their dogs looking just as mangy as the one before her, so therefore, just because it looked mangy, did not mean that it did not have an owner. "No, this dog does not belong to the Weasleys. I don't think that I have ever seen it before, I wonder why it is here?"

"It reminds me of a dog I once knew, went by the name of Alexander."

"Oh really? Who did the dog belong to?"  
"Yeh, I think that I may regret this later, but I am going to keep the dog."

Notably, Ed did not bother to answer the question that I asked him.

"Uh Ed, I don't think that is such a good idea."

"Why not?"

"They don't allow students to bring dogs to Hogwarts and aren't you planning on attending this upcoming year, I mean Dumbledore did invite you to. Besides, aren't dogs rather expensive to keep up?"

"Screw Hogwarts. There are other places I can go to achieve my goals. I am keeping the dog. I just can't let him go without a home."

Hermione sighed. This was going to be a real problem. It was obvious that Dumbledore wanted to keep an eye on Ed, for obvious reasons. No one believed his story about what was going on. He had survived a Death Eater attack, had been tortured for who knows how long and was not showing any signs of being affected by it. It made her wonder whether or not Ed was really telling the truth. How could anyone think that crucio was not the most painful thing that had ever happened to them? Neville's parents had been driven mad by the curse. Surly, it must have the same effect upon everyone that experiences it.

Ed walked up to the dog, slowly. "Ed, be careful…" The dog stared at Ed, in an almost human like way and then started to growl. An odd reaction it seemed to her since it looked like the dog had taken some definite time to think about what it was going to do. Why would a dog do that? Shouldn't that be an automatic reaction, for a dog at least? When Ed got to the point where the dog thought that he was to close, again the dog paused. It switched from barking to growling and baring its teeth at Ed. When that did not seem to work, the dog jumped on Ed. Ed laughed, "Come on, can't you do any better than that?"

It was all a game to Ed.

Hermione sighed and down on the grass, watching Ed and the dog wrestle. Despite the fact that she hadn't slept in a while, her body was still refusing to let her go to sleep. What was wrong with her? She should be going inside the house and informing Harry, Ginny (not Ron, he had a lack of sense), or Mrs. Weasley about Ed's plans to keep the dog. Something about that animal struck her as wrong. For the short amount of time that she had been around it, the dog had not seemed to be acting like a dog. It acted more like a human pretending to be a dog. But, wait, no. That oculd not be it, there were only seven animagi and to think that there could be another one out there was… impossible. But, just in the way that it looked at Ed, the times when it chose to growl, and the time when it had finally chosen to attack Ed. Something about that dog was just not right.

"Hermione! Edward! What are you doing out there at this time of day? Come in and help me with breakfast."

Ed turned around towards the direction of Mrs. Weasley's voice and in that moment, the dog bit his right arm. Hermione screamed. Ed just stared at her blankly, as if wondering what was wrong.

"What in the devil is going on out here?" Mrs. Weasley said, now standing in the doorway. "Oh my gosh, Edward are you alright…" It was then that he looked at his arm and noticed that the dog's sharp teeth were burying into his arm. He sighed, and in a creepily calm way, forced the dog's mouth open with his other hand.

Mrs. Weasley ran over to Ed, concern written all over her face. Ed stood up and blankly looked at her, as if not sure how to react to her reaction. "Let me see you arm."

"Hey wait a minute, no need to get all worried over me. Nothing was hurt. Dog just got a bit nervous and had a perfectly normal reaction."

"I would hardly call that a normal reaction. Come inside and we will take a better look at your arm."

Ed stepped back from her, tensed and ready to run. Oddly enough, the dogs bite had not been enough to tear the shirtsleeve. "I am very sorry Mrs. Weasley, but I am afraid that I need to get going. The deal after all, that I would be able to leave was that I once it was light outside. I have to find my father and although this is an unfortunate thing, it is very important that I do so."

"Edward please, this won't hurt at all." When she said this, he turned around and just ran. The dog paused for a moment and then took off after Ed. For some reason, Hermione was sad to see him go. For once, she might have had the opportunity to have an intelligent conversation with someone.

After breakfast, she was finally able to close her eyes and fall asleep. For once, her dreams were as they should have been, dark and peaceful. She wondered what had happened to those boys, vaguely. The only sound was that of a boy singing a beautiful melancholy song.

Please forgive me, my junior brother,  
I'm so guilty towards you  
One shouldn't try to regain  
What was taken by the earth

The one who knows the law of Being  
Would be able to help me to find the answer  
I was grossly mistaken:  
There's no medicine against death

Dear mother! Affectionate one!  
We loved you so much  
But all our efforts  
Were spent in vain

I lured you  
With the beautiful hope  
To regain our familial hearth  
My brother, it's all my fault

hmmm revisions, revisions. I like revising. sometimes. Either way, I thought it would be appropriate to add on a bit of the song of brothers at the end. I found a very literal translation on the internet somewhere, and to whoever spent the time to do this, I thank you in the highest… I just don't know who you are. Sorry.

Thank you to all the reviewers who reviewed. I appreciate all the advice you can give me on how to make this story better. Flames are appreciated as long as they are not unnecessarily cruel and have a reasonable point to them. Don't be shy on being **very **critical… I don't mind. Criticism is what helps authors to become better writers and I want this story to be good. I will try and revise the earlier chapters to the best of my abilities and add more to them. If you have suggestion on places that I could add more detail then tell me. Sigh. Other than that I have little to say.

If I am spelling any of the characters names incorrectly, please tell me.

Again, thank you to all the wonderful and considerate people who took time to review my story!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You guys are the best!


	5. Chapter 5

Half Pain

Chapter 5 – Making a Spiderweb

Disclaimer – I am not profiting from writing this. I do not own any of the characters. Ok?

Dear Ladies and Gents,

Here is the revised chapter five, almost a page of content added in so far. If you haven't taken a look at some of the previous, chapters, then I do beg you to. Content that will play an essential role later on in the story has been added. I hope that what I have added in better explains what is going on.

Secretly he had always liked dogs better than cats. Cats were independent; they never seemed to be there when you wanted them to be. Dogs were better. They were there when you wanted them to be. They were loyal to their master. Of course this depended on if the master treated the dog well. Call it ironic that he liked dogs even though at one time he had been one. A "dog" of the military.

The mangy dog was still following him. Why the dog was following him, Ed wasn't quite sure. He sure hadn't done anything for the dog. The company was definitely welcome; it was so odd to be alone. In his life, he had hardly ever been alone. Alphonse was always following him or he was out looking for Alphonse because of a fight. Now that he didn't have his brother with him, things just didn't seem quite right. Somehow, he had to get back to his world to see if he succeeded in bringing his brother back to life.

There was no way that he could have failed…

The circles had been right…

His calculations had been correct…

So, he had to be alive… right?

"Al…" He said to no one in particular. "I wonder where the Alphonse of this world is… I wonder what he is like."

He stopped running and took some time to look around. He had no idea where he was, he was just eager to get away from that place… the Weasley's. Molly Weasley was TOO nice. Call him biased, rude, whatever but the way she acted, it was almost as if she was trying to take the place of his mother. Be his mother. Granted, she was probably just trying to be nice and she had no idea what had happened to him. But he just couldn't stand the way she was acting… he didn't need any reminders of… well… that time.

That and he felt uncomfortable showing her that he had a metal arm.

Then again, he had never really felt comfortable showing anyone that he had a metal arm and leg. There was a time when he had been because of the circumstances unable to conceal the fact that he had a metal arm. Now that the circumstances had changed, he was going to conceal it. No one needed to know that he had a metal arm anyways.

Taking a look around at the surrounding area, he couldn't help but notice how different this world was from his. The technology was much more advanced, but this time, the Gate had sent him to a world where they could use alchemy. Yet they still had the advanced technology. Cars were everywhere, the telephones looked different from the ones that they had back at home… and that was just the beginning.

The place that he was in, at the moment, couldn't be called the nicest area in the world, but it couldn't be called the shiftiest area either. Taken into mind that he had seen a lot shiftier places during his time serving in the military. He looked at the street sign, Spinners End was the name of the street. He glanced at all the houses; maybe someone could give him a map or some information on how to reach Nicholas Flamel. Maybe he would be able to glean the information silently from them or maybe he would just have to plain out ask where it is.

He walked up to one of the houses and knocked on the door.

Life always seemed to be a surprisingly ironic to him, because the person who opened the door was one of the people who had been at the graveyard. "Memory returning…"

Part of the time that he had been tortured was fuzzy to him, after a while, he had just turned the whole thing out and let the idiot people think that he was being affected. There was one part of the torture that did stand out, the part where some people had laughed and had called him short. Many of them had worn masks, but if he ever heard their voices again, yep they would receive a punch or two… but this one, hadn't been wearing a mask.

And.

Had.

Called.

Him.

SHORT!

"Who are you calling so short that he would drown in a drop of water!" He yelled. "I AM STILL GROWING YOU BLOODY RAT!!!" He then decided that he would be true to himself and keep the promise he had made. Yes, this was truly fate or destiny or the fucking gate giving him something good. Nothing could stop him now. It was just him… his metal arm… and that ratfink. One of the weaklings that relied on sticks to defend themselves.

And so he punched the man in the face. Once. Twice… the man fell to the ground and dropped the odd stick. Ed jumped over the man and grabbed the stick. This was his chance to examine one of those things up close. The man tried to get to the stick before he did, maybe he tried to trick him, but he just kicked the man in the face… with his metal leg no less. He probably lost his teeth.

Then again, that man looked a lot like Frank Archer. A rather bedraggled version of Archer but still… this man was most likely the "Frank Archer of another world."

"This day keeps on getting better and better." Frank Archer had made his life so utterly miserable for a time. He had the supreme talent of getting in his way whenever and wherever an inconvenient place or time presented itself. This man was by no means Frank Archer. He had no idea what the other him had done but, Ed thought as he bent down and punched him in the face one last time, it felt good to finally be able to punch him. Or at the very least, someone that looked like him.

"So, let me ask you a question, sir, do you normally just walk into a house of an unknown person and attack one of the TEMPORARY residents?" Another man came out of nowhere. He had longish greasy black hair, a crooked nose, and a presence like a great black bat. Another person wearing robes. What was with these people? Imitating Merlin can't be that fun.

"He called me short." Oh… yeh… this was one of the reasons he really didn't understand why people called him a genius. He ended up doing stupid things like this all the time.

"When was this? I cannot remember Wormtail saying anything."

"Your voice sounds familiar… you were there to…"

"Where exactly was this fabled place that we supposedly met?" He was doing that annoying thing; pretending that he didn't know what was going on when he really did. Just like Frank Archer… Dante… Envy… The Furher… Zolf J. Kimbly… Coronal Bastard Face… annoying… really annoying…

"Stop playing around with me! I remember your voice, I heard you, laughing at me while that crazy bitch was torturing me! I can't quite remember whether or not you called me short."

"And I thought that it might just be an odd coincidence."

"Yeh my life is just full of those." He restrained himself from saying anything more. "First I meet a snake guy, then get tortured, then get attacked by a dog, and then oh, guess what? I meet more weird people dressed in robes just like goddamn Merlin!"

"Amazing that you weren't affected by the torture, if I hadn't seen it myself, I would never believe that you could go through crucio for three and a half hours and come out sane."

"You call that painful? Please," emphasis on the please. After going through automail surgery, fighting homunculus, and being chased by the military for the past few years something like that just did not hurt. Not to mention the occasional sparing matches with a seven foot suit of armor.

"Most people would find that painful. Especially after extended periods of time." A smile crept over his face. "Many go mad from the pain; never quite the same. There are quite a few good examples of that still living today. All of them are products of dear Bella."

"I have an unfair advantage."

"So it seems. So do tell me, what brings you here? Do you hunt down Death Eaters so that you can get tortured and possibly killed as a hobby?" The situation was quickly going form weird to overall creepy. Here he was, standing in the doorway of the house of one the followers of the snake chimera, having a rather pleasant conversation with one of the men who watched him be tortured. Creepy.

The conversation was not the only creepy thing that was going on. The greasy haired man and the ratlike and seemed to be doing this weird dance. The ratlike man seemed determined to get out of the house. Freedom. To Ed's experience, freedom was a fickle thing. Just when you think that you had it, you would get kicked in the teeth and that freedom you had would be taken from you. The greasy haired man seemed determined to keep him in the house. Could it be that he didn't want the neighbors knowing that he was living with another man? Nah. Not with the implications that he might or might not be gay. In the distance, the mangy dog barked at a car. Didn't chase the car, didn't even move. Just barked.

"What in the hell is a Death Eater?"

"You don't know what a Death Eater is?"

"That is what I was getting at yes."

"Amazing. Either you live a very sheltered life or there is something else that is going on around here."

"I was looking for directions," Ed said, trying to change the course of the subject. He was not here to have some nice chit chat with a "Death Eater." He was here looking for information about Nicholas Flamel.

He glanced at the side walk again and noticed the dog was still not moving. It was barking at cars… about every three that passed it seemed. A dog that liked patterns. How nice. "Alphonse," he called out. The dog looked at him, then the two men, and then growled at them; it seemed to be debating on whether or not to attack them. Odd. The dog didn't move at all. It chose to stay at its spot at the side of the road and bark at every third car that had passed.

"To where? The local gas station? Those things are everywhere. Just turn the corner and you will see two of them."

"Looking for a person… where the person lives specifically... and some answers to what is going on here."

The man shook his head and turned his gaze to "Wormtail" and said, "Get us some drinks, then make yourself scarce. Unless you want…" he didn't need to finish the sentence. The ratlike man jumped about three feet in the air, hit the ceiling, but did not go towards the kitchen. He continued to try and get out of the house. Ed wondered why the greasy haired man was so determined to keep there. 'Curse you Mustang for making me so perverted.' Ed thought to himself.

"No need, you could just point me in the direction of where I could get map or a phonebook of some sort…" Wormtail had almost succeeded in getting around the greasy haired man, when suddenly he stopped. Froze. Utterly froze in fear. There were no cars driving on the street and all the windows were covered. There wasn't a person in site, save for them.

It was the dog.

What? Why had that thought come to him just now? There could a myriad of things that could be frightening the man. Such as the sun; not that it was particularly sunny. But there had to be other explanations for the look of fear on the mans face. Of course maybe it wasn't fear on the mans face, maybe the man was having some sort of odd epiphany. Though Ed couldn't' imagine why someone would have an epiphany in a situation like this.

The ratlike man stood there for a few moments, unable to move. The rational part of Ed's mind told him that the ratlike man was probably highly allergic to dogs and couldn't go anywhere near him. It wasn't unheard of. He had seen a few cases like that back at home. Then the irrational side of his mind spoke – there is something funny about that dog, it is almost too human. But, how could there be? A dog is a dog… unless it is a chimera then it is a chimera…

No, no… not the time to think about that; then again, was there ever a time to think about that? This world was a horror story. Every part of his past was coming back to mock him… including Nina… Alphonse would come to. Ed just knew it.

Then ratman stood there, still frozen in fear. The dog, was still staring at the street, deliberately (it seemed) ignoring the ratmans presence. This seemed to freak the man out even more. After a while though, the dog had started to faintly growl again. He retreated into the house for some reason retreated back into the house; of course, he couldn't do this without almost knocking over the greasy haired man.

This was truly a what the fuck type of day. Days.

"Phonebook?" He said in a mocking tone, while kicking the ratlike man in the crotch. "A common muggle idem, typically found in every home, that lists the names, zip codes, phone number, and addresses of about every known resident in the town. There is no wizarding equivalent of this."

"What the fuck… You're even more screwed up than the guy with the weird eyeball."

"Moody per-chance?"

"Oh so you know him to?" Ed yelled. He would rather eat lunch with Dante and start to call Sloth mother then talk to Moody again.

Ed glanced at the dog again. Instead of staring at the street, the dog was staring intently at Ed and the two people inside of the house. More at the people inside of the house rather than himself. Odd. If this dog was a man, which thank god he wasn't, one of his eyebrows would have been raised and would have thought that he and the rat man were fighting over the affections of the greasy haired man.

"I know a lot of people. I would have figured that the Ministry would get to you first, but it does figure that they would get to you first as well."

"They? Who? What? Where? I want some fucking explanations here!"

"Temper, temper little man."

"Who the hell are you calling…?"

"If you want some answers, then do come in," Snape interrupted. And for a reason that he failed to understand, he did go in the house. Ed wanted some answers and at the moment he didn't quite care who the answers came from. In a manner quite akin to a bat the man swooped through the house and went into where Ed assumed the kitchen was. He opted to stay in what he assumed was once a living room.

The key word was once. Now the room was covered in a think layer of dust and was cluttered with pieces of paper covered in scribbles that looked like alchemical symbols. Very basic alchemical symbols. He had to smile at this, it brought back memories of when he was just starting to learn alchemy. It was nice to see that in this world there was something familiar around. Something that made sense.

"Into the Dark Arts?"  
"What? Where did you come from?"

"The kitchen. Here's a drink. Wormtail as a rule is useless, but at times he can be a pretty good cook."

Ed stared at the drink. Part of him really wanted to drink it; this was the hungry, tried as hell side of him. But another part of him didn't quite trust the drink. The thought of it being a truth potion really did disturb him. The military did have a few 'sort of effective' truth potions that they had put into use… never on him thank god… Though if he told them the truth, would they really believe him?

"What don't trust the drink?"

"Well, can you really blame me; I just got tortured for three and a half hours by a woman who has less sanity than a rabid parakeet!"

"Her name is Bellatrix and her sanity or lack thereof can really be questioned." He paused and then added, "Rabid parakeet? Are you sure that parakeets can even contract rabies?"

"Then I was interrogated by about the stupidest person living on earth and invited to attend "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Ignoring what the greasy haired man had said. "Which, by the way, magic is impossible and it breaks all the laws of alchemy…"

"Well it seems that you have some very set beliefs about magic. But do tell me, how was dear Bella able to torture you for three and a half hours?"  
"She was using alchemy. A screwed up form of it, but it was alchemy. If I got my hands on one of those stick things that she was using and I took it apart and analyzed the materials used to make it, then I could figure out how she was doing that."

"So that is what you are planning to do with Wormtail's wand?"

"As apposed to giving it back to him?"

"You can and will be put into prison for life if you are caught stealing another person's wand."

"Fuck. Even his?"

"It would cause quite a stir but yes. Even his."

"Damnit. Government officials are such shitheads." Ed muttered as he laid Wormtails wand upon a dusty table. The sallow faced man picked the wand up and tossed it one the floor and it rolled under one of the couches. Fitting. Now it would be hard for him to find his wand, especially with this room being so messy.

"So what you are saying is that magic is alchemy?"  
"What I am saying is that magic does not exist at all!" Ed could hear the ratlike man snickering from the kitchen. "Is there any chance that you could get rid of him?"  
"He is supposed to be my babysitter. The dark lord does not seem to trust me and if he does then I will consider this a very weird gift."

They stared at each other for a while… listening to the rat man snicker in the kitchen and the dog bark at the occasional car that would pass by. Snape got up with all the grace and presence of a supermodel and stormed into the kitchen.

"Yes Snivillus?"

"Go to the Dark Lord and tell him that the boy is here. Tell him that he is sane."

"Why should I?"

"You could owl him, but that might displease him, if you would recall what

happened last time you owled him. Wouldn't he want to know the

news now, in person? Or would you rather he storm over here? If you leave and I am alone with him then I might be able to pry more information out of him. For the strangest reason he does not seem to trust you. So it would be for the benefit of us both if you would leave. Now."

"Can't he hear us?"  
"I can't imagine why that would matter Wormtail."

"It matters because…"

"If he is here for information, then who better to get it from then me?"

"I …"

"The Dark Lord hates to be kept waiting. You know how temperamental he gets." There was a silence followed by a yelp and a squeal. "I am sure that you know how to apparent," Snivillus drawled.

"You'll be sorry."

"I am sure. Until then however, go to the Dark Lord. I am sure this is of the highest importance."

When he got back into the room he was hold a large bottle of something, presumably alcohol. The man must not be in good terms with the snake chimera since, apparently, the ratlike man was sent here to watch his every movement. "Now that Wormtail is gone, please let me introduce myself. I am Severus Snape, one of the teachers at Hogwarts the school that you will be attending."

"My names Edward Elric. How the hell do you know that I am attending that school"

"Word travels fast in the wizarding world. Besides, I figured that lovely Albus interrogated you as well as Moody. It would be just like him to give you an invitation to out lovely school."  
"So you are using me for information?"

"Among other things. Which include gaining trust with the Dark Lord and possibly getting Wormtail out of my house."

"But that would only be if he is interested in me."

"Anyone would be interested in a boy who is able to withstand the pain of crucio, given by none other than Bellatrix Lestrange. He will be very interested in you. So will the rest of the wizarding world. It is only fair after all, I give you something, you give me something."

"Equilvilent Exchange."

"Yes. So what do you want to know?"

"What is going on and what the hell is with all you people dressing up like Merlin!"

"I'll give you a newspaper for the first question. For the second question, I don't know who decided what the fashion would be, but the robes aren't that bad. They can be quite comfortable."

"Indeed."

"So do you know anything about magic, by the way you are talking I would assume that you don't."

"No I don't know anything about magic. Magic does not exist. It is in all ways impossible. I am skilled in alchemy. What you practice, this magic you call it, is just another form of alchemy. An odd one at that."

"Just that it is an odd form of alchemy."

"Right."

"That is odd, alchemy isn't very widely practiced here, it is kept secret. The headmaster of Hogwarts is supposed to be very skilled, taught by Hohenheim in fact, but I have never seen him use it. Mostly a dead practice now. Alchemy is closely related to sorcery so you might not want to be very open with the fact that you practice it. Magic replaced it because it is more efficient I guess."

"I see. Now what do you want?"

"Not very subtle are we?"

"Never was the type for that. I don't think that the present situation calls for that. You are using me and I am using you."

"Neh. How were you able to withstand the torture?"

"That would make things to easy for you if I told you that. I think that I will start off with some irrelevant information first and then work up to the good stuff. The first and only teacher that I had was named Izumi Curtis. She taught me some of the most important principals in alchemy. She also taught me how to fight. That is all the information that I am going to give you right now."

"Not very fair."

"One of my legs is fake."

"Intriguing. That is why the curses would just bounce off of you."

Ed rubbed his eyes. Now was not the time to be getting tired and to top that off, he was getting a pounding headache. Not from the conversation, he was enjoying that. The dog that had been following him earlier had decided to sit outside the house and whine. The whining had been tolerable at first, but then it had crescendoed into something much louder and annoying.

"Can I let the dog in?" Snape rolled his eyes and nodded his head. "The dog is probably just lonely out there. He was a stray that I picked up earlier today."

"Hogwarts does not allow dogs." By the tone of voice it was obvious that Snape hated dogs.

"I know, I just don't care." He said as he let the dog in. The dog bounded into the house and jumped onto him and licked him in the face. Affectionately. Alphonse.

"Sorry for leaving you out there for so long…" he whispered to the dog.

The dog wasn't his brother, not his brother in the least. But as much as he hated to admit it, he needed someone, something to rely on. To talk to. And what would be better than a dog that couldn't possibly understand what a person would be saying.

The dog settled his gaze upon Snape; then started to growl. Then bark. The dog had attacked him the first time Ed had met him, but to the dog's credit, Ed had kind of provoked him into a fight. Though, Ed did have to admit that the dog was sort of randomly temperamental. To prevent any further troubles, Ed decided to transmute a collar, leash, and for good measures a muzzle. He didn't really care if the man Snape saw. At this point, he was just proving what he had said before. That he could use alchemy.

"The dog doesn't seem very tame to me." Snape observed.

"I think that he is. I don't think that he will be a problem if he was let into Hogwarts."

"The key word is if."

"Well I don't care whether or not I go to the school. Do you know where to find Nicholas Flamel?"

"I think that he is living somewhere in Wiltshire. Why do you want to see Flamel?"

"My father is acquainted with him… and he wanted to give him a letter before he dies." Ed lied.

"That is a pathetic lie. If you are looking for another alchemy teacher then I can guarantee that Flamel will not teach you. Or anyone. The Ministry forbade him years ago. It was only because he was so well liked that he didn't have his memory erased."

"I am not looking for a teacher."

"Then what are you looking for?"

"If I can transmute a leash for the dog by clapping my hands together, then it shouldn't be too hard to imagine me being able to do a few other interesting alchemy tricks. As you said before – you tell me things, I tell you things. You teach at Hogwarts right?"

"Yes. I am the new defense against the dark arts teacher." An evil grin was plastered all over his face. "I have waited years for this job… for years… ever since I got the job at that school… every year I have asked for the job and every year I have been denied by the Headmaster. Having to put up with nut cases that think they are oh so superior. I just can't wait to make all those sorry students miserable."

"Then you talk to Dumbledore into letting me bring my tame dog into Hogwarts. If you do that, then I will tell you why I want to see Flamel." Ed said, deliberately changing the subject.

"Gilderoy Lockhart. You have never known pain until you have worked with him. Man is so goddamned conceited…"

Snape glanced over to where the dog was. The dog was lying on the floor, unusually still, and staring at Snape with the most evil look a dog could give a person. Occasionally, the dog would glance around the room, wag its tail, or scratch its ears. Ed sensed that the dog had a bad case of fleas. Soon as he got the chance, he was going to give that dog a really good bath to get rid of the fleas… perhaps he would shave the dog… that would certainly help get rid of the fleas.

"Try working with Roy Mustang. I think that he is conceited enough to top this Gilderoy fellow."

"That is not the sort of thing you kid about Elric."

"He was so easy to humiliate. All you have to do is get him wet and then he will be useless. Utterly useless."

Utter silence.

…

While Ed had meant, quite literally, soak the man with water, he had the suspicion that Snape taken what he had said in an entirely different way. Of all the things that he had hoped had changed from his world to this were how perverted all the adults seemed to be. Everyone of them seemed intent on filling his mind with disturbing images. Didn't he have enough disturbing images filling his mind already? Why did he need more?  
"Potter could do magic better than him when he was in his first year at school." Changing the subject back to Lockhart, sparing Ed from to take in more disturbing images. How nice.

"You are forgetting something."

"What?"  
"I can't do magic."

"But you can perform works from the Grand Arcane. I'll let the fact that you can't do magic slide for the time being. You are planning to go to Hogwarts right?"

"Only if my dog can come with me."

"That shouldn't be too much of a problem. Dumbledore can be an old softie sometimes. It won't be too hard to convince him that your dog is tame and that he should let you take the beast to Hogwarts."

"What, you don't like dogs?"

"Never have been to found of them. Bad experience with one."

"What? Got attacked by a rabid poodle?"

"The damn beast had three heads. My first question is – how are you supposed to

keep track of what all three heads are doing at once. My second question is - how the hell was I supposed to know that the only way to get the beast to calm down was to play some fucking music."

"Three heads… that is impossible… who would make a chimera like that… that poor beast."

"When you get to Hogwarts, remind me to introduce you to dear Fluffy and we will see if you still think that it is a poor beast. If you still call it a poor beast after you see it, then you are as bad as Hagrid."

"Either way… getting back to the main point," Ed yawned.

"The main point being?"

"Nicholas Flamel. I want to know where the guy lives."

"You expect me to tell you where he lives."

"You don't have to, but either way, I will find him. There can't be too many Nicholas Flamel's in Wiltshire. It doesn't really matter to me whether you benefit from this or not, but it would be nice to get that other guy out of here doesn't you think?"

"You have no idea. Pettigrew is useless. The only thing that he can do is cook and I am not going to eat any of his food."

"I don't really blame you for that one."

"Now if he could clean and organize well, that would be considerably useful."

"Fine. I will write out the directions to Flamel's house. Do you want a sleeping potion?"

"Hell no."

"It might help you sleep." Snape smirked. Ed narrowed his eyes and visabley tensed, fully knowing what was coming next, "I could also give you a potion to help you grow taller…"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING AN UNDERSIZED MIDGET! WHO ARE CALLING A MIDGET SO SHORT THAT A FLEA WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO SEE HIM!"

"Are you ever to tired to rant?"

"Fuck you. It should be illegal to make fun of a persons height when they are tired." He grumbled as he shifted positions on the couch.

"You are welcome to sleep on to couch tonight, Elric. For well, what is left of tonight."

"Whatever." Ed was too tired to refuse to offer. He took the que and laid down on the couch, hoping that he could program his internal clock to wake him up in about three or four hours. This internal clock of his tended to be somewhat unreliable at times. That is why it was so useful to have Al around…. he never slept and so he would always wake Ed up.

Alphonse…

Alphonse…

Where are you?

And…

Who are you?

Here…

…………………………………………………………………………………..

Snivillus.

Snivillus.

Snivillus.

Snivillus.

If it hadn't been for the fact that he truly wanted his name to be cleared, he would have killed that damn greasy git. But no. He wanted to be free. He wanted to be able to go on with his life. And that is what mattered the most at this time. Finding someone that would believe that he was innocent and help him prove that he was.

Harry wouldn't. The boy was praised at being a savior of the wizarding world, but the boy was not very bright. When it came to dark arts, he was ok at best. Harry Potter did not spend his time studying the dark arts, as he should have. Harry Potter did not bother to study the fine art of spell making. Harry Potter did not strive to do well in school. He worked to be a normal student, ever when it was becoming clearer and clearer every day that he would not be able to be that normal person.

But despite that fact that he had been able to do the patronus charm, play quidditch his first year, and participate in the triwizard tornament, Harry Potter was not all that bright. The boy had this annoying tenancy to cling to the past, to what he had lost, and to what he had never really known. He was so desperate to have some connection to his parents… learn about them… feel like he had a family that he was willing to cling to anyone.

Even Peter Pettigrew.

There were many ways to fight a battle. One way just happened to be – doing nothing. This was the tactic (the painful tactic) that he was practicing with Peter Pettigrew. Following his own naturally aggressive instincts (kill, kill, kill) was way too predictable to Peter. He needed to do things differently… the way that James would think. Unfortunately, that involved being patient.

He hadn't bothered to look at that damn rat. Not when he could smell him with his acute senses. If it was even possible, Peter smelled worse than dear Snivilly. There was no point in attacking Peter at this point. He knew where he could find Peter. There was too much to lose at this point. If he had attacked Peter, then he would have gone back Azkaban, no questions asked. The Ministry would have had their first victory. Con-grad-dul-fuck-ul-lat-tions.

No thanks to Harry Potter. Harry James Potter. It would take the fun out of things. Harry did want to be the one who caught him. It was painful for him to think of his godson in this way; but there was only so much that any one person could take. He had heard Harry go on and on about how much he hated Sirius. How could he know he hated a person when he hadn't even met that person?

It was unfair. He had showered Harry with affection, trying to write him from Azkaban, buying him the firebolt, and escaping from Azkaban. All for him. All for nothing. His godson believed every fantasy story that was fed to him by Dumbledore and Pettigrew. No more would he angst over this. No more. Thirteen years in Azkaban and then three more years of hopes gone to waste; he wasn't going to put any more hope into Harry. On the other side, he knew that James was going mad from seeing his son act like he was. James would be ashamed Harry. He knew that for sure.

In his deluded fantasies, Harry probably wanted spend some time ranting about how cruel it was that he was for taking his parents away. That is after he succeeded in capturing him. This fantasy made no sense to him whatever. Despite what people thought, Harry's supposed skill in the dark arts was no where near his own. Harry spent his time angsting and hoping that he would get lucky. Sirius spent his time practicing.

He really tried not to think that he had ever been beat by Peter Pettigrew.

It was almost a hobby.

Harry had no chance up against him in a fight. No matter how many people were there to back him up. He had killed thirteen people with one spell. How was one idiotic wizard supposed to defeat him? Oh yes, he had been defeated by Peter Pettigrew. The spell that he had used against him had proved to be ineffective. But as of recently, he had the time to think about the method he had used.

The slashing spell just didn't kill enough people. The spell just didn't have enough potential to do enough damage in one shot. What he needed was a spell with a really wide killing range. This was the one essential area that Harry lacked talent. Of course, not that he had ever tried to make up any dark spells. But he had talent. He had a lot of talent in this area of magic and next time he faced Peter, he had a spell just for him. There would be no escaping this spell.

But then again, the boy that lived could do no wrong could he? As much as he cared about Harry, he really wanted to hit him in the face for being so utterly stupid. It seemed to him that Harry was just about as popular and as worshiped at school as James once was. Although he had been James best friend, he had not been 'the most popular boy in the school.' At this point in time, he was willing to try and make just about anyone try and believe him. Even Edward Elric.

Now he wasn't just going to suddenly change into human form and announce that he was Sirius Black. He was going to follow the boy and watch his movements. See if there would be any possible way that he could convince him to believe his side of the story. To help him. And if all went bad… well… living as a dog for the rest of his life couldn't be that bad.

Sigh.

All he could really do was act like a dog and wait right now. Wait until an opportune moment arose. But right now, he had to keep up the dog act. While Snivillus was around. Ed seemed to trust him… or he just really wanted to sleep on that couch rather than sleep on a bench outside. This annoyed him, but what else could he do? He had to give a conceivable performance as a dog in order to not get caught in the act.

If he could pull off the act here, then he could do it anywhere.

So he waited and watched. While Snape tried to perform Legimins on Ed after he was asleep. While Snape stood there, confused at the outcome of the spell. While Snape swooshed through the house like a teenaged drama queen. While Snape left the house, muttering about something.

He knew where Snape was going. He was going to go and see Voldemort. To tell him all that Ed had told him. Why did Ed have to run into him? Why did Ed have to choose to trust Snape out of all people? The answer was painful – Snape was just about as trustworthy as any of the other witches and wizards. Dumblebore, the Weasleys, Tonks, Moody, Harry Potter, and even dear Moony were not to be trusted.

Not for their intentions, but for their ignorance.

Or in ones case, lack of it

There was nothing that he could do now. Ed was fast asleep and in all honesty, it would be unfair to wake him at this point. He had been living as a dog for weeks and he wanted to feel what it was like to be a human, even if it was only for a few moments. He hadn't risked transforming back into a human for months now. Ever since the Death Eater raid on the ministry of magic the effort to track down Voldemort's followers had increased. Which meant the search for him had increased.

No one had seemingly figured out that he was an animagus. Apparently, Pettigrew had decided to not tell the world that he was a dog animagus. Convenient. The Grim. "Maybe Ed should rethink his name for me. Maybe he should name me 'The Grim' instead of Alphonse. Who the hell is Alphonse? His brother?" He muttered to himself.

Oh god it felt good to be a human again.

And to get that muzzle off. The collar he could stand. The leash was fine. The muzzle was both annoying and humiliating. He was a fucking human and he shouldn't have to wear a muzzle. He walked around the room, carefully looking at the house where Snape lived. Funny. Snapes house looking like a goddamned McMansion compared to the dump that was number 12 Grimwauld Place. That damn house-elf Kreacher did little to nothing in way of keeping the house looking decent. He just seemed to sit around, moping, and worshiping that goddamned portrait of that old crone.

But…

There was a way to fix this problem.

He couldn't just stand here and let Snivillus's house look better than his. He had a houseelf. A useless one, but a house-elf. Snivillus did not have one. This should have meant that Grimwauld place would look better.

Ah, for once though, the fact that his house was a disaster would suit his needs very well. This gave him an excuse… a childish one… to tear up Snivillus's house. He laughed quietly, not risking to wake Ed up. "Although now that I think about it… tearing up Snivillus's house wouldn't be as fun as, oh, tearing up Mooney's house and beating some sense into him… or beating some sense into Harry."

"Crucio." Ed muttered. "Izumi."

He froze. Ed couldn't be awake, not right now… he had only been asleep for a half an hour. "Al, Al, Alphonse…" Ed muttered. "Maes… So sorry… Why didn't you listen? Maes…"

"Merlin, he is just asleep." He turned his back to Ed and walked into one of the other rooms, looking at the furniture that had at one point, been pretty nice. Now though, with the lack of care, it had lost it value considerably. He just helped the whole process, turning out tables, quietly and ripping throw pillows in half, and breaking the dishes.

Pain.

Yes. Feel Pain.

Feel what it is like to lose everything.

When the sun finally started to show, he turned back into a dog, not bothering to use a wand. He didn't need a wand to make the transformation. It was dangerous… to ones own state of mind to not use a wand, but at this point he had little choice. He had hidden his wand at Grimwauld Place last time he had been there and had not bothered to go back and get it.

He really didn't need it anyways. What is the use of a wand when you are spending day after day living as a dog? Unless the Death Eaters finally decided to go on a rampage and kill all the big black dogs in England, he really didn't think that he would need a wand to survive.

He trotted over to where Ed was sleeping and licked him in the face. 'Time to get up Ed. Time to go, wherever it is you need to go.'

People mentioned that there are spelling errors in the story, now while I like to look over it a few times before I post, sometimes I miss things such as that. So if there are any such errors, please do inform me what and where they are. I am not going to jump out of the screen and kill for you doing such. I am not afraid of criticism. I enjoy it. Unless it is flaming… although I will only consider it flaming if it goes somewhat like – OMG this story sucks I can't believe that you would bother to write this (although I am sure that a review of this type will have a lot more spelling errors and will make a lot less sense, but then again, I could be wrong on this). Sigh. So yes… this has been said once, but I will say this again, constructive criticism is appreciated.

Oh, and so all those lovely reviewers, those who touched my heart will be getting credit in chapter seven. That is all for now, Ta-ta

As always, give me your **honest** opinion. Don't be shy. I am not one of those people that gets offended by people critiquing. Sigh.


	6. Chapter 6

Half Pain

Chapter 6 – Spider Thin Lines.

Disclaimer – I don't own fullmetal alchemist or Harry Potter. Just the current plotline.

PLEASE REVIEW!

Important annoucnement - Lord Regals Bane wrote this chapter. From now on, every hermione chapter will be written by her. She/I hope that you enjoy this. Thank you.

I want to inform you all that I am trying to make this story as clear as possible. However, this has not worked and so I am putting up a FAQ section in this chapter.

1 – Do the events of book three take place during this fic. Answer – No. They are different. Forget they happened. Yes. Pettigrew is still evil. Yes. Sirius is a frightfully powerful wizard that uses dark magic.

2 – Did Sirius Black kill thirteen people? Answer – Yes. I don't care if JK Rowling says that he really didn't.

3 – Is Tonks a Slytherin? (actually this question has not been asked, I just felt like stating it here, for kicks.) Answer – for the purpose of this fic and my own little dreamworld, yes. I think that it is ridiculous that she isn't.

4 – Is the dog Sirius? Answer – Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. He is following around Ed hoping that Ed will listen to him and help him. Because he can't really prove himself innocent can he?

5 – Is Snape a good guy? Answer – I really like to know the definition of good. Once I have that clear, then maybe. But truly, must he be? Good or Evil? Sigh.

6 – How does Harry not know Sirius? Answer – it can be debated that in cannon, Harry really doesn't know Sirius all that well to begin with. They really didn't have all that much item to get to know each other and the only reason that he does end up liking Sirius is because it becomes frightfully clear that he cannot like him. Sigh. For the purpose of the fic, Harry does know who Sirius is. But who ever said that he had to be privy to the information of what the animagi form of Sirius. So we can assume that among the many things that Harry doesn't know, that is one of them. Lupin is scared to death of Sirius, for good reason. For good reason. Anyone would be pissed at the world after spending thirteen years in Azkaban and then three years on the run and **everyone still thinks that your are guilty.**

Ok, so it can then be concluded by the points stated that a few things are different in my fic. Namely –

Harry and Sirius are not on good terms with each other.

Alphonse the dog is actually Sirius.

Harry believes that Peter is innocent.

If I have missed any questions, if things are still not clear at this point, the please, I am begging you all to tell me and I will add to the FAQ section here. Don't be shy.

PLEASE REVIEW! ONE MORE REVIEW ONE MORE CHAPTER

Onto the show -

When Hermione awoke again it was early afternoon, as evinced by the light that slanted in through the shuttered window and the shouts of the twins practicing Quidditch moves outside. The small room she shared with Ginny was empty, except for Crookshanks curled up asleep near her feet. She sat up, blinking and rubbing her eyes against the sun, her whole body feeling heavy with the lethargy of someone who has slept well for the first time in a very long time. She didn't really feel like getting up, but she wouldn't be getting back to sleep any time soon, and there was something slightly shameful about lying in bed when there was so much to be done. So she changed into clean robes, made a cursory effort to tame her hair, and wandered downstairs to see what the Weasley's were doing.

Not a great deal, as it turned out. Harry and Ron were sprawled out on the floor in the traditional graceless manner of teenage boys. They both looked more serious than usual, and Hermione started toward them, hoping to discuss the strange events of the previous day. But before she could join them, Molly Weasley pulled her gently aside, "Dearie, you need to come with me." Hermione shrugged the woman's hand off her shoulder, but followed her toward the kitchen without protest, bracing herself for whatever awkward discussion was coming up.

Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately, for Hermione's purposes – the tiny room was already occupied by both Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who appeared to be attempting to have both a large meal and an argument at the same time. Molly frowned at the disarray in which they had left her kitchen. Neither of the two aurors was particularly renowned for their love of tidiness. But in the typical, loving fashion of Molly Weasley she said, instead of telling them off, "Any luck?"

"No," Shacklebolt said flatly. "No luck. I'll say one thing, kid sure knows how to hide."

Tonks nodded. "Like our locating spells simply bounce off him, or… something. Weird. He isn't doing any magic either so we can't track him that way. He is under seventeen and underage sor- wizardry is illegal."

"Yeah. Weird." Shacklebolt looked at Mrs. Weasley. "I can't believe you just let him wander off like that."

"It's not as though I had much of a choice in the matter," Mrs. Weasley muttered. "What was I suppose to do? I can't run like that boy."

Nothing good could come out of this conversation, since it was dealing with Ed, so Hermione started to edge out of the circle of attention. It wasn't as though she wasn't interested in staying to witness a fight between Mrs. Weasley and the Order. There had been plenty of those in the past, and they had _all_ been interesting. However, there was a specific want to not talk about what happened, she didn't know why but some of the events of last night… just should be kept to herself.

After all, there were things to be gained.

But when she tried to leave, she realized that Tonks had moved to block the exit – she was leaning on the doorframe far too casually, with her arms folded across her chest and a mischievous smirk on her face. She met Hermione's eyes and winked cheerfully, making no move to get out of the way.

_Bloody aurors_. It was apparent that she was going to be forced to stay… and possibly talk. Her inner Slytherin (everyone had one) said that there wasn't necessarily a need to lie. Lying in this case could produce serious repercussions. Just leave some minor facts out.

"Anyway, Mrs. Weasley was continuing, "He's only a boy –"

"Exactly," Tonks said. "Only a boy. And while it's clear that he's been taking care of himself for a long time, that doesn't mean he's fit to stand against Death Eaters, and its obvious they have an interest in him. And if _they_ have an interest…"

"Then so do we," Shacklebolt finished. "Not to mention the Ministry, once they get wind of this. Is it any wonder Dumbledore wants this kid found?"

"So we came back for information… not to mention a little bit of lunch…" Tonks gestured vaguely toward the mess. Bit was the understatement of the year. "Anyway, do you mind if we have a word with Hermione for a moment?" Hermione did mind, but it was clear that nobody was asking her.

"Would you have a seat for a moment, Ms Granger? We just have a few questions to ask you." Shacklebolt said, immediatly switching from casual to professional mode.

Hermione sat down at the small table, really feeling like there should be a bare bulb swinging up there from the ceiling. These two were too friendly to be playing "good auror, bad auror" games with her, but this was an interrogation nevertheless, and she found herself feeling highly uncomfortable. As if she were about to take a difficult test, perhaps, one she hadn't prepared well for where the questions were guaranteed to be tricky.

"First of all," Shacklebolt began, "You were the only one who spent any real time with the Elric boy before he vanished. We've heard Molly's account of what happened this morning. We'd like yours. From the beginning, if possible, and with as much detail as you can remember."

"Well, I couldn't sleep, so I went downstairs to watch the sunrise. I thought there wouldn't be anyone, but he was there by the window, so I went over to say hi and we talked for a bit."

"What did you talk about?"

"Not much actually, just some small talk you know? The joys of insomnia and studying... He did ask about a few of you... who you were and what you did. He didn't seem to familiar with the system of things here." Leaving out that he had asked specifically about Remus and Tonks. Not that anything had been wierd about that it was just... awkward and well wierd to talk about **that** in front of Tonks.

"I see. And then?"

"We went outside. Played a game of tag. Yeah, I know," she said, in response to Tonks's raised eyebrows. "Sounds childish. That's what it was… childish." _Like we were both little kids again, for a moment_. "Anyway, this dog showed up, and that was when he pretty much seemed to forget about me. The dog bit him, but they both seemed to be playing around. He certainly wasn't very upset. And then he just… walked off or rather _ran_ off."

"Was there anything in particular you noticed," Tonks asked, entering the conversation for the first time.

_The flamel,_ she thought. _Alchemy…_

"His clothes," she said instead. "The styles just don't seem all that familiar and the red coat was espesscially odd. I don't think he's from around here."

The two aurors glanced at each other and nodded.

"But he speaks English like a native," she said, shrugging. "He didn't seem to know anything about magic or our world, but he doesn't seem like any muggle I've ever met. Now that I think about it... isn't it odd that his eyes are gold? Is that even genetically possible?"

"Any indication of where he might have gone?" Tonks asked, deliberatly ignoring the last statement.

"No. None. It didn't seem like he knew himself – just started running."

"Very well." Kingley looked at her from across the table. "Is there anything else you need to tell us?"

_Well, about that dog…_ Hermione thought.

"No," she said. "Nothing."

Tonks and Shacklebolt glanced at each other again, evidently satisfied with her answers. Well, she had no reasonable cause to hold anything back, after all. _Why didn't I tell them everything_? It wasn't as though she didn't trust the aurors. They weren't just allies, they were almost friends… But something about their questioning made her close off inside, determined to keep her fragments of information to herself. Knowledge was power, after all, and paranoia a survival skill. _Old habits_, she decided finally. _My problem, not theirs._

But again, that didn't seem the extent of it. Was it the deal she had made with Elric, the promise to trust him? She supposed that not breaking his trust was a part of that deal, even if the Order meant well. Sometimes people had to work out there problems for themselves, without interference.

"Thank you for your help," Shacklebolt said. "That will be all." The auror's demeanor changed abruptly, stern professionalism melting away to be replaced with a friendly, altogether nonthreatening grin. "If you think of anything else, let one of us know. And – don't study too hard, OK, kid? Have some fun once in a while."

"Right," Tonks laughed. "I can see you don't know our Hermione very well. Her definition of fun is… not exactly congruent with ours."

Shacklebolt bowed briefly and made his exit, but Tonks lingered just outside the door.

"We've sent a message to your parents," she said. "We explained the situation, and let them know you'll be staying with the Weasleys until the alarm passes. Safer for everyone if you're among wizards."

"All right." Hermione smiled. "Thanks."

Tonks returned the smile, dark eyes glittering. A woman who knew a lot, and guessed a lot, and knew how to keep silent. That was how a member of the Order had to be. She too bowed, albeit slightly more clumsily, and sauntered away humming some popular tune or other. Her sudden absence provided the opening Molly Weasley needed.

"Hermione I could get permission to have you here for the rest of the summer and –" Mrs. Weasley began.

Hermione sighed. This always happened. Every time she came to stay. At least the aurors were professional in their curiosity. She raised a hand to forestall the inevitable, almost tactful questions.

"I'm fine, all right?" She said. "Everything is fine."

It wasn't as though she resented Molly's worry, and it wasn't as though she didn't appreciate the woman's concern. She did. But… she was sixteen years old, very nearly an adult and certainly capable of taking care of herself. All that was required was patience and intelligence, both of which she had in plenty, and all her problems would solve themselves. And that was all that needed to be said about the matter. _Ever_.

"I know you haven't been sleeping well lately…"

Hermione almost laughed. "That's nothing," she said, too surprised to really try to make her answer convincing. Although, on reflection, she supposed she shouldn't be surprised at all. "Once I get back to my natural environment everything should be fine. Just all the stress and all is kind of getting to me. It will get better."

"Just worry," she continued. "Everybody's been worried lately. I know the war hasn't been going well…" She supposed her tiredness must have been evident to anybody who had reason to notice, but it had never occurred to her that its cause certainly wasn't. _Those bloody dreams…_ Mrs. Weasley thought it was something _personal._

That wouldn't do. Not at all. She would have to make an effort to get more sleep. She made a mental note to start looking into sleeping potions.

"Well," Molly said gently, "If you ever need anything… or a place to stay, or…"

"I know," Hermione said. "But that _isn't_ going to be an issue. You don't have to worry. In fact – please don't."

With that, she turned and left Mrs. Weasley to begin her cleaning. She imagined that the woman really ought to be grateful to Tonks and Shacklebolt for ransacking the room, giving her the opportunity to set things right in her own domain. Housework wasn't just housework for Mrs. Weasley, it was a way of coping: the exercise of precision and control and the imposition of order. Hermione recognized the impulse. When she worried, she read, and memorized facts. When Mrs. Weasley worried, she cleaned. And Mrs. Weasley worried too much.

Maybe they had done it on purpose. Hermione wouldn't put it past them. If so, it would have been Tonks's idea – Shacklebolt was far too direct, too much the Gryffindor, to really behave like that on his own. Tonks was no social climber or blood purist, but in many ways she was still the consummate Slytherin, and that nature tended to reveal itself in odd ways.

Molly's mutters of _scourgify_ and the clatter of dished retreated into the background as Hermione, freed from the company and curiosity of adults, set off to locate Harry and Ron. Crookshanks padded silently at her heels, occasionally swiping at her with a paw, seeking attention that she really didn't feel like giving at the moment. In truth, she didn't really feel like interacting with anybody at the moment, but being alone meant thinking about things, and that wasn't a particularly tempting prospect either. Perhaps a bit of mindless goofing off would help her sort things out subconsciously. At the very least she would be distracted, the advantage being that she wouldn't be to bother 'the trio' while they talked.

Trio, hah! The Golden Trio people called them. Nearly inseperable at school... it was after school that problems started to arise. There was a silent rule that they weren't allow to go and visit Harry while hwas at the Dursley's and the letter writing was never much good. Now that they were back together... it would be better she hoped. Hoped. There were many things that she hoped for right now and one of them happened to be finding Harry and Ron. There were a myriad of places that they could be, since the Weasley house was so full of nooks and crannys. If it was one of those times when they didn't want to be disturbedit might take her a while to find them...

Sigh.

It turned out that Harry and Ron were lying under the shade of a large tree. It was fairly hot outside and so most people would assume first that they would be in the house enjoying the cool air. They were talking quietly, and in spite of their relaxed postures they both seemed oddly tense. As she approached they both looked up, conversation ceasing. Harry waved and beckoned her over to sit down.

"Hey, 'Mione, where've you been hiding," he asked brightly. His smile seemed forced.

"Having a little chat with Tonks and Kingsley."

"About that weird kid?"

"No, no weird Harry, violent is the word." Ron added.

"Uh huh." She sat down beside them in the shade, and Crookshanks jumped onto her lap, purring. Ron made a face. He had never quite forgiven the cat for the way it had tried to kill Scabbers, or for the disdainful way it treated all humans besides Hermione. Ron hated being disrespected, even by a cat, and as far as Hermione could tell, the feeling was mutual – Crookshanks definitely wasn't fond of Ron.

"So when's the wedding?" Ron asked, poking her. She glared.

"Are you _still_ on about that?"

"'Course," he said. "Someone had better let Neville know you like 'em short." But unlike usual, Ron didn't seem to be putting much effort into his teasing, which sounded formulaic, almost as fake as Harry's smile.

"Very funny," she muttered. "Now would you care to tell me exactly what it is that has you both so serious?"

"Well," Harry started, "I heard from Peter."

She winced as Crookshanks dug his claws into her leg and hissed. That cat was definitely smarter than a cat had any right to be, and it hated Peter. Probably still thought of him as prey that had escaped. As good measure, she kept a firm grip on Crookshanks in order to prevent Ron suffering the same, if not worse fate than her. There was no reason for him to be whining about something that she could prevent.

"And?" she said.

"He says he has reason to believe that Black – " Harry spat the name, his voice thick with revulsion, "knows where he is. He's going to be going into hiding for a little while, I guess."

"Will he stay in touch?"

"Who knows?" Harry sounded miserable. "I don't want him getting killed, but…"

But he clearly didn't want to lose touch with his last link to James Potter, either. Pettigrew had revealed his identity to Harry and Ron three years back, told them his tale of a faked death and a desperate murderer… And since then, his presence had been feeding a hunger in Harry for acceptance, family, a past that he didn't want to be over. Hermione was sympathetic, but it seemed to her that Harry tended to forget too easily that Peter was mostly still a stranger. He offered gifts, advice, and most precious of all, stories of the past, and claimed to care for Harry like a godson. But who was to say that the rat wouldn't abandon them all – as he had abandoned the fight all those years ago – when it came time to save his own skin?

_Paranoia,_ she told herself. _Have to watch that._ Maybe she could benefit from a bit more trust. And maybe Harry could benefit from a bit more skepticism. But they had been through that argument before, and nothing had really changed. It wouldn't help anybody now, to bring up her old doubts.

So instead she said simply, "I still think he should get in touch with Dumbledore. We could grant him sanctuary. Its odd how he keeps refusing."

_Probably just doesn't want to get mixed p in the war effort, _she thought. _Won't put his own life on the line._

"You'd be paranoid too, if you'd had to spend thirteen years as a rat," Ron said.

"Point taken." It still bothered her, though since there was no real reason that he should be that afraid of Dumbledore. Why would anyone spend thirteen years as a rat when they didn't need to? With Sirius Black's capture and Voldemort's defeat, the man had no real reason to endure all that time as the Weasley's pet, save the sort of extreme paranoia that invariably led to issues. Pettigrew might mean well, but his mental processes were still dangerously unstable.

"Just don't tell anyone about him, OK?" Harry was saying. "He's got good reason to believe he's not safe."

"Of course," she said, irritated. "I am perfectly capable of keeping a secret."

Lately, she felt like a whole storehouse of secrets, hoarded instinctively in spite of all reason. Like a squirril or maybe an otter... Pettigrew, her vow with the Elric boy, that damned dog, and the Order, and the Ministry, and those _damned_ dreams, and…

She leaned back, staring at the sky through a canopy of leaves. Nothing today had felt quite real, and this moment was no exception. The day was too quiet, the sun too bright, and she felt displaced from all of it.

"Let's talk about something else or rather somewhere else. It is to hot out here," she said.

They didn't move. Harry and Ron just grumbled and stayed where they were. Fine with her. She didn't need to talk. She needed sleep. Deep sleep, REM, as the muggles would put it. Maybe she could get some out here, listening to Harry and Ron talk about quidditch… with the big ball of heat shining overhead…

She closed her eyes, and almost as soon as her eyes were closed she was assaulted with images from that boys mind. Blood… Blood, and liquid. Something that wasn't blood, though it was red enough. If you looked at the liquid a certain way, it looked like it was glowing. She had seen this liquid before… many times. She had asked the boy what it was. But he never answered.

"You are just an illusion. Get out, I have no place for you here. I have no place for dreams, only fact… only fact is allowed here."

And that was here true love.

Yeah…

She looked around the room; it was bathed in red light, given from red water. Why red? Why was the water _always_ red? Looking closer, she saw that there were _faces_ in the water. Familiar faces, faces that held some significance to the boy. Two men with short black hair, one wearing glasses, the other not. Opposite to them, a green-eyed woman with long hair… and another, a small boy with overly earnest eyes. It struck her that the boy's face held particular significance – that out of all the others, it was the sharpest, the most detailed… the most real. The woman, on the other hand, was the least discernable, almost more an impression than a person. A dream, perhaps, or a memory…

Yet she knew she had seen these faces before. The boy's face looked the most familiar to her, the woman's the least, but all lived somewhere in her memory. And those two men… she knew, she just _knew_, that she had seen them somewhere. Especially the one with the glasses, and that arrogant grin – who was he? And where had she seen these people? Somewhere in her own life? That made no sense at all.

This wasn't her world. If she knew them, how could they know the boy?

This wasn't her world, but she had to obey the rules.

She walked forward slowly, her footsteps loud on the stone floor, fearing what was ahead of her; yet still hungry for knowledge. There was something wrong about this place, what she was doing here, but she was filled with anticipation. Her heartbeat was quick, her palms were sweaty. This was it: the moment when she would find the truth, make the power her own.

On the floor was a complicated pattern ringed by six pillars of red liquid, all infused with a crimson glow. She knelt, pressed her hands to the floor. Something shifted. The energy in the air surged and receded, and the pattern changed. Thick, serpentine lines, angular shapes. There were seven points of focus now, not six. That was important, somehow. Red light covered everything, looking very much like some hidden fire, or like blood.

Everything had a purpose…

Everything…

Some of the red water spilled onto the floor. It looked like blood. Like it was made of blood. Blood seeped out from the walls, slid across the floor towards the red water, mixed and mingled. Separate, you could tell the two apart. Once they were united, however, there was no discerning one from the other. They were one, complimenting the other, completing the circle. Like Yin and Yang.

What did it all mean?

What significance did this have to him?

The scenery changed before her eyes; everything went black except for three eerie lights, hovering above three suits of armor. She had seen all three of them, and new their names as easily as she knew her own. One was known as Barry the Chopper; one was guardian of a laboratory; the last… the last was named Alphonse.

Alphonse…

The name of that dog… the name that Edward had given the dog…

Alphonse was not a common name.

She walked towards the suit of armor known as Alphonse, and as she did the other two faded and then vanished, only the two lights remaining. Underneath one was a boy. Beneath the other was… a mass. Something horrific, something repellant and fascinating. A mass of flesh and bone, arteries and sinew and glistening muscle, something that might have once been human. It was ugly. It stank. It was, in every way, _unnatural_.

She turned away, and found herself facing the boy standing beneath the other light. The same earnest, beatific youth she had seen reflected in the red water, but here he was still clearer. She could see that his hair was blond, like Edward's, like Draco's. His eyes were a brownish gold, not so intense as Edward's, just gentle and trusting. He was humming a song… she had heard it before. The boy often hummed it when he was alone. He was rarely alone.

"Who are you?"

The boy didn't answer.

He looked at her, for a moment, in silence. Then the armor, the mass and the boy all faded, leaving nothing.

"Go away." Another voice, not angry, just forceful. "I've told you, you don't belong here."

She knew that voice, and she had no intention of going away. "What does it mean," she asked. To her surprise, he answered… though whether or not he was addressing her was uncertain.

"I can't figure it out," he muttered, "it all seemed right. I know it all did." His words were clearer than usual, tonight. Most times, it was hard to understand what the people in her dreams were saying; the images were clear, except for the image of him, but the voices never were. Especially his voice. She wondered why it had changed.

"You can't be right with everything," she told him.

"I have to be right with this. I just have to be… that had to be the way."

That was when she woke, immediately alert. And alone. Harry and Ron had left her to her own devices. The pattern she had seen was clear in her mind, but she knew if she waited too long she would lose it. It was already on the edge of fading, as all her other dreams had done; vague images and recollections would not be enough here. She fumbled for a quill and a sheet of parchment – things she always carried with her, just in case – and drew. And the pattern took shape: clear geometric forms, connected in ways that made no sense to her but seemed decidedly rational and essential to the whole. When she looked at it again, after completion, she didn't know how she had done it. Art had never been one of her considerable talents – she had always had trouble keeping a straight line straight, much less mapping out something so precise.

It was just a game.

It didn't make sense.

"Yet… it does… it does… make sense. More than anything else."

An alchemic array. She had seen a few, during her short Ministry apprenticeship. Simple ones, nothing like this, and her teachers hadn't gone into any detail at all about their meaning or use. And as for this particular array, she had never seen anything remotely like it. It seemed too artistic to be an array at all; the only thing that revealed its purpose was the heptagon in the background. She carefully folded the piece of parchment up and slipped it into an inner pocket of her robe. Then she lay back, musing, with her hands folded behind her head. If she could return to the dream world, she might be able to learn more. But she didn't think that would happen. Sleep seemed as evasive as ever – she was getting sick of swinging between extremes of narcolepsy and insomnia, but such was life. So she lay there for a while in the afternoon heat, trying to make sense of her thoughts.

She wasn't certain how long it was before the sound of Molly Weasley's dinner bell puller her back into the physical world. Packing thoughts of her dream back into a corner of her mind, she headed back to the house. House. Not home.

She arrived to find the entire Weasley clan – sans Percy, of course – arrayed around the small table, which was piled with the products of Mrs. Weasley's cooking. Tonks, Moody and the other aurors were still gone, presumably out seeking the Elric boy or on other Order business, but she was surprised to see Prof—_Mr_. Lupin there, seated between Mrs. Weasley and Bill and looking distinctly worn down and thinner. The placement strategic: if Remus sat by Mrs Weasley then he would have to eat more. There would be no refusing her, not that there would be much of a reason to refuse Mrs. Weasleys cooking, it was always excellent.

Conversation was muffled as everyone at the table occupied themselves with their food, for the first time in days, it seemed that she had an actual appetite. Everyone – she noticed – except for Lupin. The ex-professor was pushing his steak around the plate like a picky child, only occasionally forcing himself to take a bite and then eating mechanically, without enjoyment. Molly kept glancing at him irritably, as if she wanted to hold him down and force him to eat. She had almost done that... one time... but Remus liked to be aggreable and had eaten the food.

Hermione could tell that Lupin was trying to be cheerful, but he looked bad. Worse than he had that day on the train, when they had first met him, and far worse than any time they had seen him since. Thin scars stood out on his pallid face, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. His face was pale and had a twich of green in it; maybe from infection. No one else aside from Mrs. Weasley seemed to have noticed – or perhaps they were simply being tactful, a rare thing for the Weasley's and in this case quite possibly a rare mercy.

_Full moon coming up, _she thought. Soon enough he would have to go and do… whatever it was he did. He clearly wasn't relishing the prospect.

"Remus will be taking everyone shopping in Diagon Alley tomorrow," Arthur Weasley said with a wide smile, which Lupin tried without much success to imitate. Hermione could guess at the logic that had led to that particular decision – an armed escort for Harry and a chance for the werewolf to do something harmless and normal for a change. Typical move by Dumbledore... And that was all that was said on the subject. Conversation among the younger crowd drifted to Diagon Alley and the interesting things which could be found there, most of which were only peripherally related to school. Molly, Arthur, the older Weasleys and Lupin exchanged pleasantries and avoided any of the subjects that were really on their minds.

Meanwhile, gears were already spinning in Hermione's head. She needed information, and, thinking back to the carefully folded parchment now hidden in an inner pocket of her robe, she realized she now had a place to start. Of course, she would have to be careful. Advice on alchemy wasn't something you could seek from any decent, ordinary wizard, not unless you had some manner of secret masochistic desire to be the center of a scandal. Not to mention that most everything such people knew would be useless. She needed a sorcerer. And there was only one place in London she knew of where that sort could be located.

And it wasn't Diagon Alley.

It was, however, close. If she could find a way to slip away from Lupin for a time… Knockturn Alley wasn't the safest of places, especially for a young muggle-born girl walking alone. But she had faced death-eaters and dementors, and Knockturn Alley's denizens could be dealt with in a similar manner if it became necessary. Hermione had been practicing her offensive spells of late, including a few curses that Molly and Arthur would probably be shocked to learn she knew – having friends like Tonks and Moody definitely had its advantages. The only real problems were practical ones – when, where and how to get away without being noticed. And as they would be staying at the Leaky Cauldron from tomorrow until the start of the term, even that wouldn't be too much of an issue, with luck and patience.

But there was one other problem to be dealt with: she couldn't simply wander blindly, seeking a sorcerer with the appropriate level of skill. She needed someone who could be trusted, and considering the group she was dealing with, that could be more than a slight issue. Research was in order, but fortunately, she knew where to begin. The old families, the ones with bloodlines dating back past the founding of the Ministry and the regulation of magic, tended to be in deep with dark magic and old spells, and tended to have more than their share of sorcerers. Perhaps there were a few that retained some knowledge of the Grand Arcanum as well. So – research the old families first.

The Weasleys, like all good pureblood families, did in fact keep a wizarding genealogy, though in their case it was shoved in a moldy drawer in the back of the attic, rather than proudly displayed on the mantelpiece or coffee table. It was a magical record book, names, dates, titles and marriages kept up to date and accurate by a skilled enchantment. Just as she had expected. Hermione grabbed the thick, absurdly heavy book and smuggled it back to her room, where she settled in to reading. Ginny gave her a brief glance, then blinked at the sight of the dusty tome.

"A little light reading?" the girl asked sarcastically.

"Considering your parents don't seem to have any good histories, this was the best I could find," Hermione replied, to which Ginny just rolled her eyes and muttered something involving the phrase "bloody frightening sometimes, Hermione."

Most of the really old families ranged from eccentric to extremely unpleasant; she recognized a few names from Voldemort's ranks, and more than a few from various anti-Ministry activities. The practicing sorcerers among them looked to be a particularly interesting lot. The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, through which sorcery and dark magic ran like lifeblood, was practically a case history of power and madness; she didn't think she saw the name of a single Black who wasn't disowned, dead, incarcerated or in flight from the Ministry. She wondered briefly what Tonks thought of the family from which she had sprung, than moved on to other family histories. Other, unfamiliar names appeared to bear similar stories: Callisto Corleone was a woman of distinctly dubious mental stability, Andrea Costanza was doing time in Azkaban for no crime listed, Caliban Crammel's biography looked downright frightening… not all were so sinister as the Blacks, but few seemed to have any practical reason to be considered trustworthy.

_Ah, this one looks promising_… Crane, Sir Vincent. Professor of sorcery at Hogwarts. Fought alongside Dumbledore in the Grindlewald incident, knighted for bravery by the Wizengamot… died in 1987. _Damn. Damn, blast and buggery. _She was going to have to hunt through the rest of these headache-inducing names and family records after all.

Unless… perhaps…

Unlike most of the respectable old pureblood patriarchs, Sir Vincent Crane had not taken it upon himself to reproduce copiously. It was possible he had a few bastards somewhere, but his only legitimate offspring was one notably untitled and less-than-eminent Erik Crane. Scholar, researcher, and proprietor of a second-hand bookstore known as the Hidden Crane in – yes, how had she ever guessed – a particularly shady area of Knockturn Alley. _Oh, joy and wonderment._ It looked like she would be braving that little place after all – assuming, of course, _if_ she decided to go through with this whim at all, which was looking more and more unlikely. Well, no point in trying to force a decision right now, and in any case, Ginny would be finished washing up and wanting to go to sleep at any moment. Hermione closed the book and slipped it under her pillow, and made up her mind to try and get some rest.

It amazed her that the book had been so utterly detailed.

And that the Weasleys even had such a book.

Sleep.

Sleep was a thing that was evading her... it always did for some reason... inside of her there was a voice that said there was no time to sleep. A dream had just ended – not one of the bad ones – and she was lying in the not unpleasant threshold between sleep and waking, when a change in the noises of the house tipped the balance in favor of consciousness. Dumbledore had been in the house since late evening, pottering around examining and adjusting the heavy layer of magical wards, protections and alarm spells over the premises of the Burrow, and she had simply tuned out his presence. But now there was something else: a door opening, and footsteps. The Burrow's walls and floors were thin enough for such sounds to be very loud.

It was a peculiar property of the Weasley house that sounds produced in the entry room floated up, by way of a convoluted vent system and what Hermione suspected were a few magical distortions, to the top of the stairway. Hermione, walking carefully so as not to disturb her snoring roommate, headed out to the stairwell to listen.

That was when she heard Dumbledore's mild voice: "Severus." She froze, trying to keep her breathing slow and quiet.

"Headmaster," Snape replied. "I have information that may interest you, and a bit of sound advice."

"Oh? Is that so? Sit down then, advice is always welcome at this time of the night, and I can make us a cup of tea. Lemon drop?"

"Good _god_, no," Snape muttered. "I'm not here for a fireside chat, Dumbledore, or to indulge your taste in those disgusting candies. This is about the Elric boy. I spoke with him earlier."

"Is that so?" Hermione envisioned Dumbledore raising one bushy eyebrow and smiling ever so slightly, in that secretive way of his, as though he was enjoying a joke at everyone else's expense.

"He showed up on my doorstep, if you must know."

"And why, Severus, is this so essential?"

"Do you want information about him or not? Because I am perfectly willing to leave at this very moment."

"Severus, it depends on the quality of the information. I am astounded however that you did not bring him directly to me."

"He's an alchemist," Snape replied, after a certain amount of hesitation. "That's why the Dark Lord wants him. Or at least now that is why. At the current moment, I don't really want to fuck with him."

"Alchemy is dead," the headmaster said softly. "And for the better, I think."

"He seems to have resurrected it… and from what I saw tonight, he isn't just some callow brat with an interest in the subject. The child is a true master; not only that, he is talented at it, and you of all people should know the difference between being master and being talented. Wasn't it you that said that you were only a master and that you longed for the talent Hohenheim had?"

"Your point, Severus?" There was a chill in Dumbledore's voice that Hermione had never heard before.

"My point is that he has power and we need it. Or perhaps you imagine we can depend on _Potter_ in this?"

"Harry is a good boy, and remarkably resourceful in the face of danger."

"Lucky, you mean," Snape snarled. "He's also young, reckless, immature and inclined to the worst sort of arrogant idiocy. Even that simpering, insufferable know-it-all would be better – at least Granger has sense. But _sense_, headmaster, is not enough to win a war, and neither is anything else we have at our disposal at the moment." Hermione scowled. She was not a know-it-all. And she did _not_ simper. But Snape wasn't done talking, and oddly, he seemed very determined to get his point across. The potions master wasn't prone to such outbursts, and certainly not against one of the only people Hermione had seen reduce him to silence with a look. Something the man had seen had made quite an impression.

"Dumbledore…. W_e. Need. This Boy._ You know the situation as well as I do – if you want half a chance at defeating the Dark Lord, you'll forget about Potter and do _whatever_ is necessary to get Elric on our side. He wants what he wants and if Voldemort can provide him with this…"

Hermione hated Snape, not with the personal grudge of Harry but with the cooler, more distant hatred of someone who despised injustice and petty cruelty, both of which the man had in plenty. Even so, she respected him, not for his personal nature but for his discipline and his work against Voldemort. Snape was an intelligent, _dangerous_ man, and if he viewed Elric with such high regard…

"As you wish. I will consider your words carefully… You have already alerted the Dark Lord, I take it?"

"You mean before you? Of course. You know the conditions of my service."

"I do. And I imagine he will be awaiting your report on me. You are dismissed, Severus."

"By your leave, then, headmaster," Snape said, somehow managing to walk that thin line between irony and grudging respect. Hermione couldn't guess what his true feelings on the matter of Voldemort were, or what the man truly thought of Dumbledore, and she had long ago given up trying. Snape was simply Snape. "But may I add that we still have much to talk about? Concerning his school arrangements. I do have a few opinions..."

"Yes I am sure that you do have a few opinions." Dumbledore said in the closest thing to an exasperated tone that she had ever heard. "We will discuss things later... at Hogwarts."

She returned to her bed, feeling shaken. Alchemy. It wasn't Elric they needed, it was his skills. And if one boy could make such a difference, simply by way of knowing such things…. Then _where were all the alchemists_? It was well known to be a lost art… forgotten because Wizardry was so much more _useful_, she had been taught, or alternately because alchemy was dark and dangerous and better left alone. Well, that clearly wasn't the case. So what was?

Not only that, but it seemed dangerous to depend on one wild-card, about whom they knew nothing except that he valued his independence. If _she_ could learn alchemy, if she could teach Harry – well, then at least they might stand a practical chance, whatever Elric decided to do. But she did need a teacher. It seemed that making a little excursion into Knockturn Alley would be worth the risk after all, assuming she could find a way to manage it. _Tomorrow_, she promised herself. _Tomorrow._

_Another pointless interlude by the author - _

PLEASE REVIEW! ONE MORE REVIEW ONE MORE CHAPTER

_though this one is important. _

_Dada! I introduce you all to my coauthor Lord Regal's Bane (every other chapter is Hermione, in case you all cannot tell). She will be doing all the Hermione chapters from now on. I hope you all enjoy her, I think that she did a magnificent job on this chapter. Next few chapters should be out pretty quickly… chapter seven by the end of the week at the very least. _

PLEASE REVIEW! ONE MORE REVIEW ONE MORE CHAPTER


	7. Chapter 7

Half Pain

Disclaimer – I do not own any of the characters and I am not profiting form writing this.

I want to state firstly that this chapter is meant to be the explanatory chapter. Answers as to what is going on should be found here. Spoilers for the end of the fic… well… will not be here. However, thing should be clearer from here on out. Now, if things are not clearly stated, if there are prominent (or not so prominent) thing such as grammar mistakes or spelling errors, and other such details that might be wrong, please point them out. I truly do not want this fic to be crap, like all those other fics… but I do want to warn you that I am cramming a lot of things into one chapter. So it may be a bit choppy.

sigh.

**In other news, there is a significant lack of reviews. I want to post the next chapter. Unfortunatly, seeming as though I only have 7 reviews for this one, I still can't. So you all know what to do! Review. Just type in one or two words telling me if you like it or not. It doesn't have to be a long review, (I like long reviews), just a few words. I will probably reply to you and say thank you. **

So, please review.

I long for a well written EE/HG romance… that updates slightly regularly… I have noticed that every fic out there is Roy/Ed. It makes me cry. Back to this show…

Chapter Seven – The red birds mark.

His calculations had been correct.

His theory had been right.

The circle had been perfect.

Alphonse.

Alphonse.

He woke up to the dog licking at his face. He didn't want to wake up. He wanted to sleep some more, but the dog was persistent despite attempts to fend him off. So he got up. Albeit reluctantly. When he opened his eyes, he wasn't quite sure if he was dreaming or not. The surrounding area looked… different. Much different and it wasn't different in a good way either.

"Shit."

The dog, while he had been asleep had torn up the room. The only thing that had been left in tact was the directions to Nicholas Flamel's house. Ironic. The dog had enough sense to not tear up the directions, but had torn up everything else. Smart dog. Not that it made much of a difference anyways. The house had resembled a junkyard in progress when he had arrived and now the look just looked like it had finally been completed.

Maybe the dog wasn't tame.

There were ways to fix that… hopefully.

He looked at the directions carefully. They were well written out, on parchment with a quill, containing instructions as to what train to take. On top of that, there was some money for the train (with a note saying – YOU WILL PAY ME BACK ELRIC), and what streets to take to get to the house. Interesting. He had expected an address and some vague directions as to how to get there. This would make everything more convenient. Part of him wondered how Snape knew how to get to Nicholas Flamel's house… not that it mattered. This knowledge was helping him out and that is what mattered.

He wondered if there was enough money for food. He doubted it. For some reason, he didn't trust any of the food in the house, that rat man had touched it. The fear that some of the food might be laced with a truth potion or something else similar and this was not something that Ed was going just dismiss. It paid to be paranoid. He was not going to be taken advantage of again.

He walked outside, to a shabby looking yard full dying plants and mostly dead grass. There was one patch of the grass that was still alive. Amazing. He clapped his hands and transmuted the grass into some bread. This way, he knew for sure that the bread was in no way laced with something. He gobbled down the food greedily; it had been awhile since he had the chance to eat anything.

After he was finished with the bread, he walked into the house. The dog was sitting in the living room, looking very pleased with what he had done to the house. As soon as he saw Ed, the dog got up and started to walk over to the door. "Eager to leave aren't you Al?"

The dog turned around to face him and tilted its head slightly in reply. He was proud of what he had done. He should be mad at the dog for doing that, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to be angry about the whole thing. "I can't just leave the house like this Al; the guy has done me a great favor and has given me money. Equivalent exchange, I would end up owing him too much. This shouldn't take to long though."

He clapped his hands together and laid them on the floor of the house, intent in mind. It really didn't matter about the intent of the transmutation so much as knowing the precise transmutation circle that you needed to make. He knew both, doing work on houses was an easy thing to do. With the method he was using, it was a good idea to keep the intent in mind anyways.

Once the transmutation was completed, the dog looked around the house in utter shock and let out a long drawn out howl, filled with pain. If the dog was a man, which he wasn't, he would have been crying and shouting out obscenities. A lot of thought had been put into destroying the house. Oh well. The dog still followed him all the way to Nicholas Flamel's house, but glared at him the entire way. When he got some money, he was going to buy the dog a really big bone, to make him feel better.

Alphonse.

The house itself was very large, even bigger than Tucker and Yoshi's house combined. The grounds to the house were large as well. It was all, overwhelming. What was the need for such a large house and grounds… the grounds were something that he could rationalize at the very least. It was nice to have a bit of space. This world seemed to be overpopulated and if you had the money, you could save some of the earth from being trashed by high-rise apartments.

It was all surrounded by a large stone gate; the only thing that informed him that the house belonged to Flamel was the number, which was hidden by vines. For the ordinary person, the house would be hard to find, even though it was large and it had large grounds. He walked up to the gate and it just opened. Odd. A person would think that the gate would be kept locked.

Nevertheless he walked through the gate, dog in tow, and made his way to the front door and knocked. Then waited. For the span of about five minutes. Normally, he wouldn't have waited so long for a person. This though, was a special case. He didn't have anywhere to go and nothing really to do. Well, he had that letter that was coming for him… but that didn't matter.

When the door did open, he was shocked at what he saw. There was a little person standing there. The funny thing is that it really didn't look like a person so much as it did look like an elf. A really tiny timid looking elf that was wearing a pillow case as clothing, "Is there something you be wanting with Master Flamel?"

"Yes, I was here to inquire to him about something."

"May I ask your name sir?"

"My name is Edward." Then after a moments thought he added, "I am the son of Hohenheim."

"I sees… I sees… Come, come then… Master Flamel will want to see you, if

you is telling the truth. He will be able to tell."

Yeah I am sure that they will be able to tell, Ed thought to himself. People have thought that I look like that bastard since I was little. My looks, my talent, everything seems to come from him. The ironic thing is that now these things might come in handy. Never had he thought that looking like Hohenheim would actually be a good thing.

The elf shut the door behind him and led him through the hallways of the house. Ed was surprised that the elf could even shut the door, it was so short. It felt good to be taller than someone else for once in his life. The elf led him to a study that was perfectly in order. Inside the study sat a man that looked like he was about to die.

"Kind Master," the elf said, "the son of Hohenheim is here."

"I see," the old man croaked. "You are free to leave… I am sure that this whoever it is can show himself out when he needs to leave."

The elf wasted no time in scurrying out of the room and slamming the door on its way out. He was confused by this, but nothing seemed to be making sense to him anyways. It was best to go with the flow and see if he would get any information about what is going on out of the old man. The worst thing that could happen to him at this point was the old man could drop dead right in front of him; then there would be no chance of getting any information out of him at all.

"Your father was taller than you."

"Who the hell you calling short you wrinkly old…"

"You seem to be too young to be Hohenheim's son, but then again… age really doesn't matter. He could have done that again, why he would I don't know, but it is likely that he did do that. Oh well. There is only one way to prove that you are Hohenheim's son is to show that you have his talent. I want you to draw the circle that creates the philosopher's stone."

"What?"

"It is the only way to prove that you are Hohenheim's son, besides the looks. there is a different version where he comes from and I am the only one that knows what it looks like. A different version was used to serve the purpose here. I want you to transmute something as well, showing that you have indeed inherited his talent."

"No way am I going to draw that circle."

"Son, does it look like I am going to up and make a philosopher's stone? That sort of work takes strength to do, and I have little of it. I am waiting to die. I am not Albus… I do not rely on occulmancy or legimins to get information out of people. After you draw it, and I look at it, it will be burned. You need money, yes? You need information, yes? I am not going to be running to anyone with that information."

Flamel was right with the money thing and the information thing as well. Sighing heavily, Ed took the paper and (grr) quill that Flamel handed to him. He sat down at one of the two desks that were in the room and proceeded to draw the intricate swirling design of the transmutation circle that would produce the philosopher's stone. He did the first version of it; leaving out all the things that he had hypothesized would be needed to actually make the stone. Then there was the things that would have to be done in order to make the stone complete. He handed the paper to Flamel when he was finished, the circle was not perfect due to the fact that he had been using a quill instead of a pen, but it was good enough for Flamel to know that he actually knew how to make the stone.

"Good, good, same array that your father taught to me when he was here."

"Lovely. Why did you take the time to redesign it? What do you want me to transmute?"

"Hmmm, didn't really think about that. You could just go ahead and repair your cloths. They do look like they could use it." Nicholas said, trying to be friendly. He could sense that he had pissed Ed off by making him draw the array. "I redesigned it for the purpose of the work. I wanted to see if there was more than one way to draw the array and there was. Needless to say, I am glad that I did. I will tell you however that the resulting stone is no different than what your array produces."

"Fine and then we cut the crap and you tell me what is really going on old man."

"As promised."

Ed sighed and clapped his hands together, letting the blue light of an alchemic transmutation surround him momentarily. Ah, clean cloths. Ah, new… no, newly transmuted clothing.

"I guess you are the son of Hohenheim then. You have inherited his great talent and you do look like him." Flamel said, conveniently leaving out the fact that he thought that Ed was short. He would slip up, they all did eventually. And when he did, Ed had a rant ready for him.

"So, I guess I should start with the Death Eaters. But before I do I think that this would be a great help to you. Ollivander had gone out of business as of lately, not that any of the wands that he makes would work for you."

Flamel handed him a long wooden box, the box was made out of dark wood and had been polished recently. He didn't bother to open it. As curious as he was about how magic worked, he still thought that alchemy was superior and the whole concept of magic was foolish. The whole wand thing was foolish. It gave you too much of a weakness; nevertheless, he accepted the wand. He would need one in order to fit in and fitting in was the first step in making an effective spider-web.

"Huh?" Moving on from the subjects of wands, much to the surprise of Flamel. "Why not start out with why you are giving me all this money and how you knew that I was coming."

"Simple deduction really, no prophecy needed. If you know the way the time flows in this world and you know the way that time flows in your world, it is pretty easy to guess what things are happening. Hohenheim visited this realm not to long ago and told me what was happening. I figured that you would follow him. Though I wasn't quite sure about how long it would take."

"And make things easier on me by giving me…"

"Everything. The house-elf, the fortune, the house, and everything in it. I shouldn't be alive for too much longer. Immortality wears on you; eventually you want to give it up. If Voldemort lives for a while, he will come to realize this. We all do."

"Now see, who is this Voldemort guy?"

"A chimera in simple terms. He is the leader of the Death Eaters, rumor has it that they have been around since he was in school, although it is not clear as to what year he actually recruited the first Death Eaters. He started out a human, and made himself a chimera."  
"What? Why?"

"Power. To greater resemble a snake, which is the symbol of the house of Slytherin. Ironically, he is a direct descendent of that line, although few people know that; Albus went to great lengths to prove this. I guess he is trying to tell everyone that by becoming part snake, although I don't know why that would be even necessary."

"Weird. To think this guy wanted me to be his second in command."

"Hm. Interesting. Did you take the offer?"

"Hell no."

"Shame. You could have been a spy for the order of the phoenix. Albus would be worshiping you. Snape does not seem to be producing enough information for him. The situation for the order is grim at best. Shame really, most of the members are really talented people."

"You mean that freaky guy with the beard and the half moon glasses?"

"That is the one. But do let me go on."

"Whatever." Somehow, this reminded of the meetings that Mustang would hold, meetings that Ed would be required to attend; Alphonse had been excluded from these meetings, but Riza would always see to it that he was amused with something. The meetings had been filled with minor details about excapades that the military wanted him to do... and excapades that the military wanted the others to do. They all started out differently, but they all ended the same way. Scotch.

"Most of the Death Eaters have escaped from Azkaban. This was previously thought to be an impossible thing to do. This was proven wrong three years before the great escape, when Sirius Black escaped from prison. Now, this is an important thing."

"Ok… Sirius Black… important."

"Sirius Black was the first person to ever escape from Azkaban. People think that he is responsible for the great escape, though no one has ever proved this theory. He is, according to the written file, Voldemort's second in command his most trusted servant. This is something you might want to note - he is the only one that has never gotten a trial."

"So no one really knows if he is innocent or not. Why was he in Azkaban anyways, specifically?"

"Sirius Black was originally convicted on the assumption that he was responsible for killing the Potters who were his best friends, thirteen random muggles, and a little boy known as Peter Pettigrew. James was like a brother to him, his parents took him in when he ran away from home, and they were inseparable at school after the end of the first year… sad story. Parents hated him after he started his first year at Hogwarts; the school ruined his life. Everyone thinks that he is guilty. Dumbledore is sure that he is lurking somewhere in the Dark forest, but Hagrid has never been able to turn up anything."

"Who is Hagrid?"

"Keeper of the keys at Hogwarts. Not a bad guy, but I don't see you and him

getting along so well."

"So why is Sirius Black so important?" Ed snapped. "You still haven't told me anything… What I would like to know is why he is so important and what Albus Dumbledores opinion is. He seems to be an important guy in all of this."

"You are right, on two accounts. Albus is an important player and he does things that Sirius Black is guilty. He is sure of it."

"What do you think of it?"

"I think that the whole thing is illogical. This whole thing could have been prevented if Dumbledore had not relied on the prophecy and had killed Voldemort in the same manner that he killed Grindlewauld."

"Shame. What is the method?"

"Dumbledore used the most effective method of killing mass amount of people that was known at the time of course. It has been known for ages… it was the same method that I used when I defeated a dark lord… or two. Time wears on you when you are immortal and you do forget things…" Nicholas rambled on.

"Then why is he the Headmaster of a school?"

"He got rid of Grindlewauld. He was and still is a living hero. Grindlewauld had a bigger following of creatures and wizards than Voldemort does today. Notabley, not by much at this point, at the rate he is going he is going to equal to Grindlewauld. That is saying something: the only thing that really distinguishes one from the other is that Voldemort has yet to launch an attack on the other continent."

"Some difference. So basically what is going on is that these Death Eaters and Voldemort are trying to take over the world? Now, tell me why does Sirius Black matter?"

"He studied under me and Erik Crane for a while. He has a deep knowledge of Dark Magic, Alchemy, and is most probably innocent. You of all people should know…"

"The meaning of a life… the price of a soul… the meaning of a person…"

"Exactly. It is probable that they locked up Sirius Black not because that they thought that he was innocent, but because of his potential as an alchemist. They get rid of everyone who has potential, either by imprisoning them or by enslaving them to the ministry. Albus helps in all of this of course. I keep up and friendship with him… for various reasons. Mainly because he is reliable and it is good for publicity. Despite what Harry Potter thinks, the ministry loves him – he has no potential as an alchemist."

"What does that idiot have to do with things?" Forgetting Sirius Black at the mention of Harry; he needed to know why people thought that this boy was so important.

"Oh, so you know the boy?"

"Unfortunately."

"Well, it is a very long story, but it involves mother love, being marked for death by Voldemort, and a prophecy."

"A prophecy? That is it? He is important because of a prophecy? Are people really that stupid?"

"It made me cry when Albus said that he believed what the woman said. Trelawney is the last name, stay away from that woman if you can. She will entangle you in the affairs of this whole mess… it will be the prophecy plan all over again. She teaches at Hogwarts just so you know."

"Right. This world is really screwed up."

"Your father would agree on that point."

"Don't ever compare me to him. I am not my father."

"Could have fooled me. You look just like him and…"

"I don't care who I look like."

"Your choice I guess," he paused for a moment and stared at the wall opposite. There was nothing extraordinary there, just a bookshelf. "You shouldn't trust him… Albus… Nor should you be here. I can give you some money for the road and the key to my Gringotts vault. You won't be able to access it by the time you get to London, but you will be able to access it in the morning. You need to leave. Now. I don't have the strength to apparent you to London… nor is it a wise thing that I do so."

"Apparent?"

"Your father didn't get the concept at all. It is basically teleportation."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Some confusion and a train ride later, he found himself in London at Kings Cross Station. It was nighttime by the time that he got there… it had been almost two days since that offer to attend Hogwarts. He needed somewhere that he could stay for the night… somewhere without people. Somewhere that he could think…. and that didn't cost anything. The bank was probably closed and he had used all the money that he had gotten on food and train tickets.

Stuck. With. Nothing. Again.

Sigh. It was probably going to be one of those nights that he ended up sleeping on a bench. And lo! Behold, there was a bench in sight, with a lovely advertisement for deodorant decorating it. That bench would do… it was just as good as any of them. Well except for the fact that it was near a busy street and the cars would keep him up for most of the might… but that was beside the point.

Then… the dog. The odd, mangy… destructive dog, bit him on the ankle and tried to pull him in some direction. Where? No, the question was at this point was why in the world should he follow a dog?

The answer was quite simple – so the dog would not make a scene.

The dog continued to whine, then bark, and Ed knew deep down in his heart that soon the dog would resort to biting. But wait, he was the human… he should be the one in charge here… right? But he was also tired, slightly crabby, and hungry. He was going to defy logic and follow the dog.

Of course, when he saw where the dog was leading him, he thought that he should have stayed with the logic. 12 Grimmauld Place. The outside of the house looked like it could use some work… some serious work. That, however, was nothing compared to the inside of the house. The entire house was covered in a thick layer of dust and was infested with… an interesting assortment of creatures.

"Better than sleeping on a bench," he muttered. "Time to do an Edward Elric, personalized household remake…"

It was then that the oddest thing happened to him. Out of the shadows came a creature. One of the elf like creatures that he had seen at Flamel's house. What did he call it? Oh yeh, a house elf. The house elf launched himself into the air, skillet in hand, ready to attack him, screaming -

"FILTHY MUDBLOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!" Two voices yelled.

What?

"Get rid of the filthy intruder!!" A shrill female voice yelled.

Right. An elf was attacking him with an iron skillet and screaming some odd insult. Truly terrifying. He dodged the house elf's attack and pinned him to the ground. "Kreacher hates, Kreacher Hates!! Filthy mudblood!! Filthy! Filthy!"

"Right."

"Filthy mudblood, trespassing in the great house of Mistress, yes… trespassing into the ancestral home of the Blacks… yes… yes…"

"It just keeps on getting weirder and weirder."

"Filthy mudblood shouldn't live, yes, filthy mudblood should die, yes, yes, MISTRESS!!! MISTRESS MUST HELP POOR KREACHER SLAY THE EVIL MUDBLOOD!!!"

"Right. I know that I am trespassing, but at this point, I really don't care."

"Filthy mudblood has no manners!"

"You have no manners either – you tried to kill me!"

"With good reason."

"Look, I am going to stay here for a few days and as repayment I will clean the entire house. Now if you will excuse me…"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

One of the few satisfying things about his life right now is that he could torture Kreacher all he wanted, and no one would care. As soon as Ed left the room, he transformed back into a human, and promptly kicked Kreacher in the teeth. Then he silenced Kreacher before the elf even started whining, with an order to shut up. Mistreating house-elfs was wrong… if they weren't Kreacher. Kreacher had to be the most annoying house-elf that had ever lived and he didn't have time to … reform him.

"Master sticks tongue out like a dog… filthy Mudblood loving Master. Traitor! Traitor! Traitor gets what traitor deserves… yes… life as a dog... fleas like a dog… yes…"

He kicked Kreacher in the teeth again. "I was under the impression that I looked rather cute when I am a dog. James always said that it helped improve my disposition."

"What were you doing?"

"Protecting the house as Master said… Bad Master hurt poor Kreacher when all Kreacher does is what Master says… yes."

"But you knew that Master was with…"

"Master should no bring filthy Mudblood into the house… dirties it… yes it does… Mistress will be so unhappy, poor Kreacher."

This was the time for the ultimate lie. This was the time... well… that he might make Ed's life just a tiny bit easier. He knew a bit about Hohenheim. Not very much. Just his blood status. Which just happened to be pure. Now, he could just make the assumption that Hohenheim's son would be a pureblood, like his father. Even though father and son did not seem to have that great of a relationship going on; but the relationship really didn't matter. It was the lie that mattered at this point in time.

"Kreacher… it astounds me that you are so utterly stupid. You should be able to recognize that boy."

"Kreacher has never seen this boy in life…"

"I mean, I think would be obvious just by looking at him that he comes from one of the purest blooded families… Shocking. I should order you to stuff coal in your mouth and beat your head with a poker. He is the son of Hohenheim you dolt of an elf. Anyone would know that by looking at him. Honestly, you are completely useless."

The reaction from Kreacher was priceless; almost as amusing as the punishment might have been. It was hard to believe that Kreacher was taking the lie so well. It had to be because of the blond hair or maybe Kreacher had some idea of what Hohenheim looked like and was comparing father to son. For a moment, the house-elf seemed to be seriously contemplating actually going through with the punishment. "Now, Kreacher, I want you to pay close attention to me. You are to obey the orders of Edward. Understand?"

"Yes."

"You are not allowed to tell him who I am, you are not allowed to write to him who I am, or in any other way communicate to him my identity. You are not allowed to tell him who ordered you to do this. You are not allowed to tell him anything about me, nor hint about anything either. You are not allowed to hint to him who I am. If you disobey I will…"

He didn't get the chance to tell Kreacher what would happen to him if he disobeyed. He could hear Ed coming and so he transformed back into a dog and started to bark at Kreacher. Maybe he should take the act a step farther and actually try to bite at the damn elf. As appealing at that sounded, it wouldn't be the best idea. He had to show Ed that he was tame… somewhat tame. He was never going to wear that fucking muzzle again. That was just humiliating.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Burning the house down and rebuilding it would be easiest thing to do. It was going to take some serious alchemy to even get this house into livable conditions. He was going to have to repair each room separately, each piece of furniture separately, and then deal with the odd… creature infestations.

Then, in his moment of contemplation, the house-elf that had tried to kill him earlier ran up and hugged him. Ok. This was something that he could deal with. Bipolar, slightly crazy, elf chimera thing.

"Kreacher is sorry!!" It wailed. "Kreacher did not realize whose father yours was… yes… Kreacher did not realize that you was from such pure blood. Kreacher thought that you were a filthy mudblood loving traitor like Master. It is hard to believe that Master has respectable friends. Horrible Master."

"Master?"

"Yes. Master said that Kreacher should follow orders of Master Edward. So Kreacher does… Kreacher does… Kreacher is happy to obey the orders of Master Edward."

"Ok so in the time that I was walking around your house your Master told you to follow all my orders? Who is your Master?" Master Edward? His rather large ego started to inflate... slightly. He could get used to this sort of thing.

"Kreacher cannot say."

"Where is your Master?"

"Kreacher will have to punish himself if he tells Master Edward, by putting hot coals into his mouth and bang himself on the head with a hot poker."

"Why… what would be the purpose of that?"

"If the house-elf disobeys the orders of its Master then the house-elf must punish itself. Last time Kreacher disobeyed Master, Kreacher …"

"Lovely whatever you did…" Ed said, not letting the house-elf finish. He didn't want to hear the details of how the house-elf tortured himself because of some thing he didn't do. If one thing truly led to another then… it was only logical that he should run into a masochistic house-elf next. It made sense. He didn't want it to make sense but it did make sense. "Listen Kreacher, I want you to go and get some food and something to get rid of the … things… that are infesting…"

"Doxies… you want me to get rid of doxies and get food?"

"Yeh… whatever. I can take care of just about everything else." He turned around and started to head upstairs. He would start with the upstairs… the bedrooms were up there and he wanted to get some sleep. By morning, he figured that at the very least, he would have the entire upstairs clean and livable.

Then…

Then…

Maybe…

What skills Kreacher lacked in cleaning, he made up for in cooking. His waffles were excellent and there were plenty of them. He questioned his sanity when he first started in on the food. There was some risk… accepting food from a crazy house-elf. After going two days with little food, it was good to get something into his stomach.

The letter from Albus Dumbledore had finally come… by owl weirdly enough. The address had seemingly been changed several times. It was like he was being stalked. It had Snape's address and 12 Grimmauld Place listed on there… not Flamel's. He hadn't been there for more than forty-five minutes. Somehow, he felt uncomfortable about Dumbledore knowing that he had been at 12 Grimmauld Place… but there was nothing that he could do about it.

Now at least.

He would try and get a hold of the records and destroy them. With how many students this guy had to keep track of, his age, and the apparent stress that was taking hold of his life right now it wasn't too much to believe that he wouldn't spend to much time looking at his records. Improbable. But believable. He would use Snape to get rid of his records and to forge new ones.

But there were other things that he had to worry about. He had to get all the supplies for school and he had to read up on how magic worked. He was going to be in year six… the same year as those two guys and that girl. He had a lot to catch up on and a lot to buy. There was only about a week until the start of the term... and with all the shopping that he had to get done, a day would be wasted on just that. Even with the house-elf. He would have to buy all the books from year one until year six, plus some for supplementary reasons.

This was all going to amount to be one big pain in the neck. It should take him one month in all to get fully caught up on everything that he needed to know. There was quite a considerable amount that he had to learn – six years worth of potions, astronomy, defense against the dark arts, charms, transfiguration, herbology. Then, he was required to take two other courses. He had decided on Ancient Runes and Arithmacy. Luckily, there wasn't quite as much material to learn in those two classes, only about three years worth of material.

Nothing that he couldn't manage.

"Kreacher!"

"Yes, Master?"

"Do you know where this Diagon Alley is? I need to get supplies for school."

"Yes, Kreacher knows. Kreacher went with all the Black children to get supplies for Hogwarts… that is where you are going yes?"

"Yes."

"Good, good, then Kreacher will take you to Diagon Alley to get school supplies."

"Is the bank there to? I need to draw money out of my account."

"Yes." The house-elf said. A weird change seemed to have come over the house-elf. It had gone from wanting to kill him to wanting to serve his every need. At hearing that he needed supplies for school, he hurried along with the cleaning and started to hum an odd sounding tune. "I went with all the Black children to get their school supplies, I will do the same for you… in the way of the Black's… the list is useless… the Black way is the right way. The Black way is the right way..."

Right. In the way of the Blacks… that must be the family that had lived there… once. He had noticed a large tapestry on one of the walls. He had contemplated taking it down but he had decided not to, partially because of Kreacher. Instead, he had left it alone. Like everything in the house, the tapestry needed to be fixed and Kreacher would have fits if he even thought of throwing anything away. That was why he had to be discrete about it. He wouldn't throw anything away, he would just deconstruct it, leaving the ultimate possibility of reconstructing it. Alchemy was so utterly handy.

He looked over to see what Kreacher was doing or rather trying to do. He was trying to do the dishes, but that task seemed to confuse him. "Kreacher leave the dishes to me. We need to get going right now or we won't be able to get all the stuff that I need for school."

"Kreacher is a good house-elf; Kreacher obeys the orders of Master Edward… good Master Edward yes… not filthy Mudblood." The rant continued as Kreacher showed him the way to Diagon Alley. The dog had decided to come along… to add to the ridiculous entourage. While Kreacher was ranting, the dog was barking at Kreacher. He couldn't decide which was more annoying, the ranting or the barking.

The alley was situation in an odd place. Like everything else in this world. First they had to find a pub on Charing Cross Road. It was hard to tell by the overall features of the pub, but it was supposedly very well known. To actually enter the alley you had to walk through a wall; well, not literally. You had to tap a certain sequence of bricks in order to enter the alley. There was a problem – mainly that he didn't know the sequence of bricks and that he had forgotten to bring his wand.

"Master did not bring his wand!"

"There is hardly a need for it Kreacher. There is another person here that is going to help us enter the alley. "

As luck would have it, there was another man that needed to enter the alleyway and he had his wand on him. The man was tall and thin with long silvery grey hair that was tied back into a ponytail. Like Hohenheim's. The man gave off the vague air that he had once had been fairly rich; shown by the way that he walked. He carried a cane with him, but it was probably used a weapon rather than an asset for walking.

"Shameful! Like the muggle cloths you wear! A wizard should always carry his wand!"

"Kreacher, where is this Gringotts?" He said in hopes of getting the house-elf off the subject of his cloths.

The house-elf grumbled as he showed him the way down the alley; it was quite a sight, with all the weird shops. The only things that looked vaguely familiar were the stationary shop and the bookstore, but that didn't look right either. The people really took the whole wizarding thing to the extreme; alone with a shop for cauldrons, there was a place to get a brooms, flying brooms. Ed was quite sure that he never wanted to fly. Especially on a feeble piece of wood. Then again, with his automail, he doubted that even with their wonderful endowment of magic those brooms would not be able to pick him up.

The man that had let them into the alley was still behind them, but left at the entrance to another alley, called Knockturn. He smiled at Ed before completely disappearing into the recesses of the alley. Ed glanced at the alley; at best, the alley looked shady. To his experiance, the shady places were always the best to find information. Useful information (so utterly hard to find nine times out of ten, as learned from the ever present quest to find the Philosephers Stone). Across from the entrance of Knockturn alley was the bank, Gringotts. "Young master want to go down there?"

"Not without money and some actual time. What is down there anyways?"

"Young Masters always liked to go down there… filthy one would never go down there with his friends…couldn't be seen, yes, yes… good master always took his friends… yes… lots of things you can find in Knockturn alley. All the traitors hate it… nasty blood traitors."

"Interesting." He said as he entered Gringotts. "Kreacher please wait outside… and don't cause too much trouble."

"Anything that Master says. Kreacher loves Master… Master is good to Kreacher… yes…"

This was a safeguard. He didn't want the slightly demented house-elf to cause to much trouble inside the bank. That, and he really didn't want to go into the bank with all a dog and a house-elf. It looked freaking ridicules, like a king and his freaking entourage. Once he was inside, he let the dog off the leash. So far, the dog had been good; he had faith that the dog would follow him… and wouldn't bite/attack anyone. Hopefully wouldn't.

Left alone outside, for the first time in many years, in the small amount of time that he was left alone, Kreacher was able to cause a fair amount of trouble. By the time that Ed got out of the bank Kreacher was standing in front of some people screaming at them. In much of the same fashion that he had screamed at him when they had first met.

"Kreacher!"

"Traitor! Traitor! Filthy Traitor! Just like Master! Worst than Master!"

"Shut up!" The house-elf was immediately quiet, although this didn't stop him from making rude hand gestures at Lupin. The dog growled at him, clearly showing his teeth, and the house-elf stopped with the gestures and settled with looking at him and the dog with the dirtiest look that he could manage. "This day could not get any worst."

"Edward."

"I am sorry about the behavior… uh"

"Remus Lupin." Beside him was the boy that he had punched for calling him short. The boy was still sending him dirty looks, but notably, he wasn't calling Ed short. Which was exactly what he had wanted.

"Ah. Thank you. Thing seemed to come with the house that I am staying at. Wanted to kill me at first but now it hero-worships me. Sorry for the trouble," he said as he glanced briefly over his shoulder. "Alphonse! Come!"

The dog was still on the steps of the bank, standing stock-still and growling at the tired looking man. Remus stared at the dog with a look of horrified shock. "Is that dog yours?"

"Yeh… found him a few days ago. He is actually quite nice, when he wants to be."

"I see," He said, turning towards the direction of the dog. "Alphonse, come or I will put you back on the leash and put that muzzle on you."

The dog moved closer to Ed, slowly, growling at Harry and Lupin every step of the way. Ed grinned childishly, "Who's a good dog? Yeah, you are, Alphonse. Good dog… don't worry," the boy said, looking at Lupin. "He doesn't bite, unless you try to pet him. He's perfectly gentle. Aren't you, you big puppy? You're nothing but a big puppy who wouldn't hurt a soul. "

"Why did you name the dog Alphonse?" The black haired boy asked.

"I liked the name." He lied. The bear like dog trotted up to him, teeth bared and growling. "Good dog. If you don't attack anyone today, you will get a treat. Does steak for dinner sound good? You look like you could use to gain some weight... and a flea bath..."

"Are you sure that dog is tame?" Remus asked. "I mean, if you are taking it to Hogwarts it should be…"

"Given a flea bath I know. Dog is just covered in fleas… should check him over for ticks."

"That's not what I meant."

"I think it is on the skinny side to… shouldn't be to hard to get the dog 'fattened up.'"

"Edward if you are taking the dog to Hogwarts then you should be sure that the dog is tame and won't hurt anyone!" His voice sounded frantic now. The dog just sat there, with its tongue hanging out of its mouth, wagging its tail back and forth. If the dog was a human, it would have been laughing.

"Nothing I can't handle. I have handled dogs, healthy dogs that are the size of this one. I am sure that when it comes to me and the dog in a wrestling match, I shouldn't' have too much of a problem winning. If that is what you are implying." He glanced at Remus, his scared face had paled quite considerably. He looked quite ill, like he was going to puke. "Either way, I need to go. Seriously, just spend some time with this dog and you will know that it isn't much more than a big puppy, it just loves attention. I have to get all my school supplies by the end of the day. Good day."

Ed grabbed the dog's collar and led it off with Kreacher in tow. He didn't need to drag the dog, the dog was eager to get away from both Remus and Harry. He could see the bushy haired girl staring at him and then quickly turning down Knockturn alley. Her face was red; with embarrassment perhaps? What had Kreacher said? That all the blood traitors would never go down there. Interesting. Then why as the girl going down there?

"Master got money yes?"

"Yes. I have enough to last for awhile."

"Good… Good… Then Master should get fitted for robes and give Kreacher money for supplies. Kreacher will get all supplies… all… all… Just like Master wants…"

"Uh yeh. Kreacher could you also get all the books for the previous years? I want to take a look at the material from then… to see if I have missed anything in my studies."

"Yes. Kreacher could. But why? When Master could look at Young Master's books? Young master left notes… yes… on potions yes… Young Master loved to brew the Draught of Living Death."

"So, you already have all the books from the previous years?"

"If Master is going to Hogwarts like Young Master then yes. Kreacher does have all the books. Master wants all the books that Kreacher would buy the young masters yes?"

"Yeh. Just get me all the books that you bought for them." He said as he handed Kreacher some money and the list of things needed for the school year.

"Kreacher will need more money if he is to buy all the right potion ingredients and a good quality cauldron. Twenty-five more galleons should do it. Master has to start from scratch."

"Fine," he grumbled as he handed Kreacher the twenty-five galleons. "Give me any change there is."

"Kreacher pointed to a store sign that read Madam Malkins, "Kreacher will find Master in there, getting proper cloths." With that, Kreacher stalked off, mumbling 'nasty blood-traitors.'

Leaving him with… getting the robes. The ridicules looking robes that everyone seemed to wear. "Here goes nothing," he muttered as he walked into the shop, dog still in tow.

Once inside, he was greeted by a squat smiling woman wearing mauve robes. He had to blink twice in order to take in all that was there; there were so many different varieties of robes to wear. All of them were ridicules. Some changed color and some were made of snakeskin. For school, he would need to get some black robes, some dragonhide gloves, a plain black pointed hat, and a black cloak with silver fastenings for winter. He glanced at the hats.

"I have to wear one of those things?"

"Anything you need dearie?"

"Some robes and a cloak… for Hogwarts. Oh, do you sell bags here?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I was wondering if you could embroider a symbol on it… and on another pair of robes as well. Black robes."

"Any particular style?"

"Just the same as the ones for Hogwarts."

"Fine. It will cost extra."

"I am willing to pay." He took off his red coat and let the woman examine the symbol. She clicked her tongue twice and seemed to be contemplating asking him why he wanted the symbol embroidered on both the robe and the bag. She decided not to. All for the sake of good business.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Silence.

Just like he had predicted, it had taken most of the day to get all the stuff he needed for school. They had made three trips to Diagon Alley that day with all the stuff that Kreacher had insisted on buying. The last trip was for the trunk; which could fit an astounding amount of stuff. With all the cloths, books, potion ingredients, miscellaneous school supplies, and hat there was still some room to spare.

And by some, he meant a lot of room to spare.

Which meant that he was able to 'borrow' some of the more interesting books from the library downstairs. Kreacher refused to let him borrow some of the books; not that it had mattered since Ed had just gone down later and got them then. He figured that the more Kreacher fretted about the book, the better it was.He would return all of the books once he was done reading them.

Now… his time was thoroughly devoted to studying all the material for school. He focused mainly on the memorizing all the spells and wand-work that went along. The movements were simple enough to master, the spells were a pain. The potions work was easy enough. It followed the rules that he knew by heart and so even though he had only been able to brew a few simple potions he was sure that the more advanced ones shouldn't be that hard.

He hadn't bothered to touch transfiguration, arithmacy, or ancient runes. The start of the school year began on the first of September, leaving him with only about five days to master six years of work. Two days from now, he would start studying those particular subjects. For now… he would just stick to studying charms, defense against the dark arts, herbology, potions, and astronomy. Not to mention history. That was truly the most boring subject he had encountered so far. Useful, but boring.

Five days…

With all the things that he had to study in order to get ready for the school he had little time to think of Alphonse. Thinking about the whole thing was painful. He had to know if Alphonse was alive or not. If he thought about his brother, then he would get distracted from his work. Start working on various circles and formulas and in the end would probably amount to nothing. He had to remind himself that this was the way to get back to Alphonse.

Even though this all sounded like nonsense, there had to be some sense tied in with all the nonsense. That is why it worked. That is why some of it made sense. If he followed the nonsense, he would get to the sense, and if he got to the sense then he might be able to get back to Alphonse. This was all depending that he didn't just shoot himself on the way.

"Master?"

"Yes Kreacher?"

"There is a owl for you."

"An owl?" The bird flew into the room carrying a piece of paper, followed by another bird; a red bird, similar to the one that he had seen with the Dumbledore person. "This is one weird way to send mail."

"How else is one supposed to send it?"

He decided not to answer Kreacher's question. He opened the letter; it was written on parchment with a quill. It was annoying to read, but it was well worth the trouble.

_Dear Mr. Elric,_

_Normally, __**Darling Dumbledore**__ gets to send out these letters. He, however, has made an exception for **you**. Two exceptions. The first one being that you can bring that dog to Hogwarts. I expect it to be tame. He believes that it is tame. It better be tame Elric. _

_The second piece of news can as a shock to me, and I am sure that it will come as a shock to you as well. I suggested to Dumbledore that instead of making idiot Weasley a prefect, that we should make you one. He agreed. This means that you will have some extra duties such as patrolling the halls at nights…I am sure that you are jumping up and down with Joy. Included in with the letter is the Prefect Badge that you have to wear along with your nametag. _

_Now, there is a third piece of business that we need to attend to, not the money that you WILL PAY ME BACK, but my house. What in the bloody hell did you do to it Elric? The furniture isn't falling apart… everything is clean! Just why did you go and do that Elric? Why? I liked it the way that it was… Please reply. _

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Severus Snape _

He stared at the badge. Clever. A way to keep track of him. Not very effective way to keep track of him, but it was still a way. But there might be some benefits to it…

_Severus, _

_The house… well… the dog destroyed it. Utterly and completely. I repaired it to the best of my abilities. Since then however, the dog has been perfectly tame. _

_What are some of the benefits to being a prefect? _

_Sincerely, _

_Edward Elric_

He gave the letter to the owl, who upon receiving the letter, promptly swooped away. Leaving only the red bird. It was a beautiful bird; he had never seen any bird quite like it. It was a fairly large bird, about the size of a peacock. But its feathers… its feathers were beautiful. There was a mix of red, purple, and gold. More red than purple, and hardly any gold

But Dumbledore had one.

For some reason, Dumbledore reminded him of his father. The more he thought on it, the more he could make connections between the two. The way that he smelled. The way that he acted. It bothered him. He didn't want to be like his father in the least.

He already had an animal. He had a dog. He didn't need a bird. Especially one that faintly reminded of his father, "Go away!" He said, taking a swipe at the bird.

The bird was able to dodge and flew out of the room. Not out of the house, out of the room. He could hear Kreacher yelling at the bird; apparently it had knocked over one of the vases that he was especially attached to. The vase probably broke. He would probably end up repairing it sometime later.

He felt marked.

He didn't know why.

Al…

Al…


	8. Chapter 8

Half Pain

Chapter 8 – An enigma known as Erik Crane

Disclaimer - I own nothing, (not Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter) just the current plotline.

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Physically, Diagon Alley had not changed much. A few shops had boarded up and closed down – she had heard that Ollivander's was one, which both surprised and vaguely saddened her, as though a piece of something important had been lost. The streets were somewhat emptier, the background noise more hushed. But what had really changed was the atmosphere. There was a tension that had not been noticeable before, a sense of suppressed fear and a too-desperate attempt at normalcy. Hermione recognized the feeling. The ever-present and never discussed prospect of a death-eater or dementor attack, she supposed, could do that to people.

The wizarding areas of London were like towns under siege; witches and wizards hurried about their business without looking around or meeting each others' eyes, never acknowledging the sense of threat that they all had in common but didn't want to accept. Even during the hunt for Sirius Black, when dementors had haunted the streets of London, the paranoia hadn't been this strong. She wondered how many of them were Death Eaters or – almost as bad, sometimes – Ministry spooks, or even a few of Dumbledore's own men.

Did it even matter, today? She was here to shop for school supplies, at least until she managed to escape. Why not just enjoy the day? The boys were certainly having fun, and even Lupin seemed a bit more like the teacher she knew. Was it so shameful to just take a few moments to enjoy life, without concern for the future?

_It is in times like this_, she thought. But as it was, there was far too little she could even do at all, or rather, nothing they would let her do. She was tired of being treated like a kid … she wanted to be out accomplishing something, not sitting and waiting for the axe to fall.

At Flourish and Blott's, she added a book on animagi to her pile of texts, and a dusty, obscure volume of magical history that might or might not contain anything of use. The newer books never did, she had noticed. They all painted history in too bright and brilliant a light, and left too many gaps. The thought of it angered her – covering up the past to make the present look better. Hiding the depths to keep up surface appearances… was that what she was doing, in her own life? She shook her head. That line of thinking was completely irrelevant. Better to keep her thoughts on the task at hand. _Eternal vigilance, _she thought wryly. _Moody would be proud. _

It was the animagus text that really interested her. Were there ways to tell, magically speaking, if an animal was an animagus or not? She thought about asking Lupin, but he would want to know why she wanted to know, and the Rita Skeeter incident was two years old.

Lupin did, in fact, look askance at her purchase, but said nothing. Animagi certainly weren't the oddest subject Hermione had taken an interest in, after all. Most of the subsequent shopping passed without event. They shopped for potion ingredients, replacement robes, and finally ice cream on Florian Fortesque's patio. It was on the way back that they ran into Edward Elric.

It was while they were passing Gringotts that it happened. Hermione liked to imagine she was prepared for most things, but a lunatic shouting obscenities is never exactly easy to anticipate.

"_Filthy_ mudbloods," a voice screeched. "Blood traitors, vile, shameful mudblood lovers." Not words one was likely to hear in Diagon Alley, for the most part; most wizards here, if they had feelings on the subject of blood impurity, kept them to themselves. It took Hermione a moment to realize that the words were directed at her little group, and somewhat less time to locate their source.

Standing on the steps of Gringotts, shaking a fist at the passing crowds who were already stopping to stare and mutter, was a truly pitiable house elf. The creature sported spindly arms and legs and drooping ears, and its only article of clothing was a pillowcase that hadn't been washed in far too long. It was also clearly deranged, and its stream of obscenities hadn't ceased or grown any quieter. Lupin looked red with embarrassment, Ron slightly stunned, and Harry like he wanted to hit the creature or anything else in range. For her part, Hermione felt an old revulsion at the idea of house elves rising up in her, shock and horror and pity all at once. She hadn't given SPEW much thought, once things had really started to go wrong. There had been too much else to worry about. But now the old injustice struck her anew. What must have been done to the elf, to make him like… _that_?

And more importantly at the moment, how could she shut him up without being cruel about it? Even the staunchest pro-elf activist had her limits, after all.

As it turned out, she didn't have to. None other than Edward Elric came rushing out of the bank, that large black dog following at his heels. She was somewhat relieved to see that it hadn't tried to kill him after all; the dog hadn't seemed tame or safe when it had followed after the boy the other day, animagus or not. But dogs did have a great capacity for loyalty, to those who treated them right. If, as she had heard, the animagus form mirrored the human personality, Elric had probably found a friend rather than an enemy. Assuming, of course, that her theory on the matter was correct in the first place.

"Kreacher!" Ed sounded mortified.

"Traitor! Traitor! Filthy Traitor! Just like Master! Worst than Master!"

"Shut up," the boy said. "This day could not get any worse…"

"Edward," Lupin said, somehow sounding only mildly surprised.

"I am sorry about the behavior… uh…"

"Remus Lupin. And it's no trouble at all."

"Ah. Thank you. Thing seemed to come with the house that I am staying at. Wanted to kill me at first but now it hero-worships me. Sorry for the trouble," Ed said as he glanced briefly over his shoulder. "Alphonse! Come!" The huge black dog, which had followed Ed out of Gringotts, didn't move. It just stood there on the steps, growling at them.

It was then that she got a good glimpse of Lupin's face for the first time, and what she saw was startling. The man looked literally terrified of something; the blood had drained from his face, his eyes were wide and he looked practically ready to throw up. _What is going on?_ Was it the fact that Ed was an alchemist, and apparently quite a powerful one? That didn't seem right – it was the dog that Lupin was staring at. The animal raised its head to look at Lupin, and the werewolf stepped back involuntarily.

"Is that dog yours?" Lupin asked.

"Yeh… found him a few days ago. He is actually quite nice, when he wants to be. Alphonse, come or I will put you back on the leash and put that muzzle on you."

Then the dog moved closer to Ed, who patted it on the head with a childish grin.

"Who's a good dog? Yeah, you are, Alphonse. Good dog… don't worry," the boy said, looking at Lupin. "He doesn't bite, unless you try to pet him. He's perfectly gentle. Aren't you, you big puppy?"

Lupin looked literally gray.

There was quite a crowd around them now, fascinated by the odd little group and the house elf who was still skulking in the background making rude gestures. Hermione very much wanted to stay around and see how the scene would play out – there was something important going on with that dog – but she realized that with Lupin, Harry and Ron's attention all occupied, she would never have a better opportunity to make her escape. And what she planned _was_ important. She edged her way backward into the crowd, trying to stay inconspicuous, and was soon far enough back that she could turn down the forking path that lead to Knockturn Alley.

As she got farther from Diagon Alley, the buildings got shabbier and closer together, and even the colors seemed dimmer and duller. The cobbles on the streets were uneven, and weeds poked through the cracks. A few windows were broken or boarded up, and trash piled in the corners of doorways and stairwells. This wasn't just a haven of darker magic, it was obviously much poorer than Diagon Alley. A wizarding slum? She hadn't really imagined that such places existed before, but now she supposed that they must.

Oddly, the mood was freer here than it had been in Diagon Alley, less fearful. The wizards of Diagon Alley were just beginning to get used to a life of casual paranoia that the denizens of Knockturn Alley had lived with for years. People here knew perfectly well that they couldn't trust anyone they didn't know, and they accepted it without concern. They knew where they stood in relation to each other and the authorities, and consequently asked no questions and interfered in no one's business, not even hers.

The trick, she supposed, was to look like she belonged, act like she had a right to be there. She did have business here, and she did know, vaguely, where she was going. So she walked slowly, confidently, challenging no one but keeping her fear hidden. The people in the street glanced at her curiously, suspiciously, but they left her alone. They would, out where there were potential witnesses. She felt out of place here – well, of course, she _was _out of place here. But she ran into no trouble.

She passed booths on the streets selling everything from dubious-looking luck charms and curses to simmering, sparkling bottles of liquid advertised as lust potions. Most of the actual shops looked better-maintained, a few perhaps even wealthy. Few advertised the exact nature of their wares, but most of the witches and wizards seemed to know exactly what they were doing anyway. Borgin and Burkes, which she had heard a great deal about but never anticipated seeing up close, had the appearance of a magical antique shop with more than its share of disturbing artifacts; from what she had heard, the items for sale within were mostly dangerous and practically all illegal. She stifled her own curiosity and passed the shop by, turning at a dim little corner to follow a narrow, twisting path that her map told her led to Erik Crane's bookshop. The alleyway was dim, most of the sunlight blocked off by balconies and overhangs from the buildings on either side of her, not to mention the high brick walls themselves. Odd spot for a bookshop, but then, Knockturn Alley was just that – odd.

She found the shop called the Hidden Crane at the end of the long pathway, very well hidden indeed. The little shop was run-down, but far cleaner than most she had passed, and there were incongruously bright little pots of geraniums sitting beside the front steps, beneath a swinging sign that showed nothing more than a flying crane. Hermione decided to ignore the flowers; plants in the wizarding world, she had noted, tended to harbor some of the nastiest curses and defenses out there. Instead she gingerly pushed open the door, and stepped in.

The inside of the small room in which she found herself was cluttered with old books and strange objects: globes inlaid with gold and silver, complicated star charts and diagrams, what looked like equipment for distillation and potion brewing. Powders and potions lined high shelves, kept out of reach of the casual consumer. The merchandise on display certainly didn't seem to match the shabbiness of the shop.

Looking around, Hermione felt her breath catch at the sheer volume of knowledge contained here – books weighed down shelves along the walls, and lay stacked on tables in the small room's center, opened for browsing. Then her gaze turned to the far wall, and she saw the shop's proprietor sitting at a cluttered desk against the far wall, calmly sipping a cup of tea and observing her with interest.

He was an elderly gentleman in sharply tailored robes, with a pair of oval spectacles perched atop a sharp nose. For all the unpleasant rumors that Hermione had heard about sorcerers, he looked innocuous enough, but then, it could be difficult to tell. From the little she knew of the art, it was tied in deeply with blood and dark magic, and power drawn from sacrifice – as all old magic was. Sorcerers weren't all hated – Dumbledore was a master sorcerer – but they weren't trusted. At all.

But sorcery was also tied to alchemy, and that was what mattered.

"May I help you with anything, young lady?" The words were polite, but the question was pointed: _why are you here?_

"Are you the owner of this shop?" He spoke to her. Internally, she mused, she hadn't actually expected to receive any attention. She had expected people to be here and there weren't any people here to speak of. Only her. But some of her nerve was lost. She knew nothing about sorcery… nothing to impress. A book. That is what she needed: a book. Maybe she would just get a book and go.

"Indeed I am. Erik Crane, at your service." He watched her intently as she looked at the titles on the shelves. Names were flowing through her head – Alphonse… a woman's name that started with an I… Her love's father was an alchemist and according to him he had inherited his talent from him. If only she knew the father's name.

"If you are looking for discounted textbooks, I can assure that I sell none of them here."

"Oh no, I am looking for a bit of light reading. I can't find any more interesting texts at the place that I am staying and well… I don't think that I will be able to survive without something interesting." She said as she picked up a random book; when she did so, she could hear a snort from Erik Crane. Upon looking at the pages of the book, she knew why. The book was complete crap.

The question of the day was how did she know it was complete crap?

It contradicted everything that she had gleaned from her dreams with the boy. And this was the case for the next five books. "What the hell is up with all this overpriced crap? There are alchemy texts at Hogwarts that are better than this!"

"Is that so?"

It was in that moment that she realized that the owner of the shop was still there and that she had called his merchandise crap. "Oh damn," she muttered, "I am loosing my mind."

"So if you think the merchandise is crap, why are you still here? Most people leave when they think that the merchandise is crap."

"You are the only person of a slightly reputable background that I had time to research." She snapped. It wasn't her fault that she didn't know of anyone else… it wasn't like she lived at the Malfoys. Now that would be a family that would definitely know some sorcery. "It is not the owner's fault that the books he sells are crap – rather it is the authors fault."

"Yes, but I am the one that is buying the books for the store. It is my fault that they are here in the first place."

She harrumphed and ignored him. "Alchemy and Herbalists… is that what it is called? Maybe Introduction to Alchemy… or that might be the subtitle. That is the book that I want."

"I want to inform you that the particular book that you are looking for has been out of print for over a hundred years. The last time it was in print was the first year my father taught in Hogwarts."

"That couldn't have been too long ago… thirty years…"

"How old do you think I am?"

"Forty?"

"I'm eighty-eight. My father taught in Hogwarts in the days before Dumbledore was in school. You are muggleborn aren't you?"

"Why should that matter!"

"Well it certainly explains why you are having so much trouble dealing with time!" He said in an exasperated tone. "Though it is nice to hear that I look so young, sorcery can have a bad effect on one's appearance if used too much."

She froze. Information. Somehow it disturbed her that he was telling her things because somehow she thought that she shouldn't even know that little fact. "Look, I am here looking for information on a specific array. Just tell me what it does."

"Why should I?"

"I could pay you."

"It all depends on how much. But I don't really want money right now," as the words came out of his mouth, Hermione felt herself grow tense. "Do you know where to find Fenrir Greyback? I sent out an invitation to tea and he didn't respond. Shame really."

"You're friends with…"

"Hardly. The name on the doorplate is Erik Crane, not Humbert Humbert. No, I am not his friend."

"Then what do you want with him?"

"Fenrir Greyback doesn't have friend or allies. So in all reality, you have little to fear. The only people that want to find him are the people that want to kill him." His voice darkened. There was something behind this… this man was obviously obsessed with Fenrir Greyback.

She needed to justify, to herself, the words that were about to come out of her mouth. It would be for Lupin. "Are you going to kill all the werewolves?"

"Don't be stupid. Only a select few. Are you attached to one that isn't Fenrir?"

"I know a werewolf that knows where to find Fenrir Greyback.."

"Name."

"How can I trust you?"

"Well if I know his name then I will be able to find him… and if I don't know his name then it would awfully hard not to kill him. I could find Fenrir without your help. Besides, I could help your friend… darling little werewolf, isn't he? If you tell me the name of this man then I will answer all your questions about your little… array."

"Remus Lupin." She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Erik Crane smiled and wrote the name down on a spare piece of paper.

"Thank you for that… now, what is your name?" He asked innocently. There was no turning back now… not when she could finally get some information out of a skilled… uh… sorcerer.

"Hermione Granger."

"Is that so?" he asked, setting down his teacup and tilting his head curiously, like a bird might. She hesitated. This man's father had been Dumbledore's ally, but that was no guarantee of the son's loyalty. Still, she needed information, she needed a teacher, and it wasn't as though she intended to compromise the Order's secrets, or her own. Finally, she stepped up to his desk, pulling the crisply folded sheet of parchment from her robe and handing it to him.

"Do you – do you recognize this?" she asked, finally showing him the array.

Crane took the parchment and unfolded it, revealing the heptagonal array from her dream. His eyes widened, and his mouth tightened almost imperceptibly at the corners, but he said nothing for a moment. Just stared.

"Do you recognize it?" she asked again.

"Not… exactly," Crane said slowly. "I'm a beginner myself, at least concerning this particular area of study. I mostly deal in explosions and… But I do know what it is, and this is… extremely complicated. I can't even work out everything its trying to do. I've seen something similar, but – " He seemed to have forgotten about her temporarily, lost in the puzzle before him. Then he frowned and looked up abruptly.

"This is _not_ the place to be discussing such things," he said severely. "Come with me. The ministry watches this place. Technically it is not even legal for you to be here if you are still in school, which I assume that you are" Without waiting for her assent, he pushed himself up from the desk and laid a hand on the back wall. The woodwork melted away to reveal a door, which he pushed open and stepped through, nodding at her to join him.

Not like she had that much of a choice, of course.

On one level, she supposed it was stupid to be following a strange man into the back room of a shop in the most disreputable part of town that she knew of. But really, she would be in no more or less danger than she was already. And she had made her decision long ago – do whatever was necessary to get the knowledge and power she needed – so she followed.

The place she found herself in seemed more like a sitting room than a shop's back room. There were the ubiquitous books, and a definite avian motif to the décor – feather patterns above the walls, statues and pictures of ravens or hawks or owls. No cranes, she noted. Only carrion birds or raptors.

"Now," Crane said with a definite sarcastic humor rising in his voice, "why don't you have a seat and tell me where you found this?"

He gestured to a chair as shabby as everything else in the room. The family had probably been well-to-do, before the late Sir Vincent had been dismissed from his position without warning. Crane's voice and manner were aristocratic, and there were little touches of wealth – the silver-headed cane the man walked with, his elegantly tailored clothing and expensive spectacles, the way he wore his hair tied back and clasped with a silver pin… definitely an affinity for silver. But he had clearly fallen on hard times, or simply spent all his money on the books and knick-knacks she saw cluttering his shop. Hermione sat down, trying not to feel uncomfortable.

Crane gestured again, and the door swung shut with a creak; and then all traces of it disappeared altogether. Wandless magic, magic without an incantation – sorcery. That was frowned upon in polite society, these days, since the Dark Lord's fall and Dumbledore's rise. Voldemort had been deeply into sorcery, so its reputation had fallen into shadow. And as for alchemy…

Mucking about with people's lives and souls, trying to defeat death – that was what McGonagall had said, when she had asked during her third year. It was unnatural and dangerous and just this side of evil. Lupin had told her it was useless, and said no more on the subject. But she had to learn the truth for herself. The Ministry used alchemy, after all. And Dumbledore…

"_Where_ did you get this, Miss Granger?"

"You wouldn't even believe me if I told you."

"I am capable of believing a surprising number of things."

"Can you tell me what it's for? I don't want to talk about the where."

"You are going to have to talk about it sometime. You are my apprentice after all and we are going to get to know each other very well."

"Wait! I never said that I would be your apprentice. I gave you the name of the person that knew Fenrir Greyback!"

"You think that things come so cheaply. I knew that Remus Lupin was associating himself with Fenrir, but it is nice to have confirmation. No… the information that you want comes at a higher price. You have to be my student."

"Says who?"

"You are intimate with Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix no? How long do you think the ministry will let you live once they find out you know that array? Darling, it doesn't matter if you don't know what it does – take my word on this. Once they find out they will kill you."

"Just tell me what it does! I have to know. It is driving me nuts, night after night I can't even sleep! I want to fucking sleep!"

"Well," he muttered, "it isn't for transmuting steel into a spear, I can tell you that much."

"So what _does_ it do?" She could hear the eagerness in her own voice, the peculiar hunger. Crane looked at her appraisingly.

"What it does, young lady, is very complicated, very dangerous, and _very_ illegal. Which I can't say has ever troubled me greatly before, but… look, I'm a theoretical man myself. And more of a scholar than a practitioner of alchemy. It's called the Lost Art for a reason… it is a miracle that you were able to come up with an accurate variation… no, no – complete version of this array. But it seems to me you got that circle from somewhere."

"I found it in a book. I knew it was a transmutation circle, but I wasn't sure what it meant, so I – " It was a desperate lie.

"So you went all the way to Knockturn Alley to ask the advice of a man you know nothing about. Very wise of you. Now, would you care to tell me your real reason for this excursion of yours?"

"I need answers." Her words came out all in a rush, and it was only after they were spoken that she realized how much she feared being turned away.

"And they come from teachers… which is why it is wise of you to choose me as one. I haven't had to deal with students in a long time, and my last one didn't exactly end well. Too rash, didn't know how to back down, just like everyone else in that mad little family. You know the Blacks are perhaps the only wizarding family to regard being a clan of inbred psychotics as a source of pride?" He peered at her critically, watching for a reaction. She felt the same thrill of fascinated revulsion that every wizard felt upon mention of that infamous family, but also with the reawakening of a curiosity that had lain three years dormant. _Black… Sirius…_ something had been very strange about the events surrounding the escape of Sirius Black. All the little details that didn't quite fit… like why the man hadn't killed Harry or anyone else when he had the chance.

"Don't you know," Crane continued, "why sorcery is frowned upon?"

"Because of Voldemort," she said. "Because of what people do with sorcery."

"People can do those things with ordinary magic as well. But sorcery can't be regulated. Think about it. Think about the wands, the incantations – what are they for? A set of formal rules – why? What exactly is the point of all that, if not control? Learning how to track magic… that is a major area of research at the ministry. More money is put into that then fighting Voldemort."

Unregulated magic… you could do literally anything. And not be caught. From what she had seen of alchemy in her dreams and the Ministry records, you could commit the perfect murder with it, transmute a person into dust or turn them into a walking bomb, no troublesome evidence to deal with. There had been a person who had done that, Kimbly, with those tattoos on his hands. Or the man called Scar. Those were ways to win a war, all right. And then there were… other situations… where that kind of power could prove useful.

"Does alchemy even register as underage magic?" She hadn't planned on saying the words, much less sounding so eager about it.

"No," he said, looking at her very sharply. "It does not. Is there a reason you ask?"

"I have to learn." She finally gave in. "You have to teach me."

His smile was slow and predatory. "Of course I would be more than happy to teach you. This shall be interesting. Are you, perhaps, in the fast-track for the Ministry?"

"No. I – " she forced the words out. "I failed."

"Good. That makes things considerably simpler, my darling apprentice. Now as your teacher, I order you to tell me how you found out about that array."

"I don't know."

"Well you certainly aren't lying about that… for the love of Merlin, just open your mind a bit more and make things easier for me. I think that it is important to start off every relationship with an open mind."

"_What?_"

"Legimlimens, darling, get used to it. Every sorcerer nowadays is very good at legilimens. That is going to be one of the first things you learn from me." He paused… his face looking intent. Now that she knew he was prying into her mind, it was easier to notice it. "You share a mental bond with someone, and that is how you know it?"

"Potion… third year."

"Fuck. It will impossible to trace then."

"Oh…" She would have rather liked to know that boys name.

"Whatever you do," he said, changing the subject, "do _not_ show this array to Dumbledore. Or if you do, I can't be held responsible when they spirit you off to court on trumped-up charges." Hermione had trouble believing that Dumbledore would do something like that – no, she amended, she had trouble believing he would do something like that to _her_. What he would do to any other student of a forbidden art… surely not falsely imprison them? Dumbledore was one of the good guys, regardless of this man's paranoia – wasn't he? _But the Ministry would do it in a heartbeat. Crane probably sees them as indistinguishable_.

"Dumbledore isn't like that."

"How much do you claim to know of him?"

"Enough to know that he wouldn't do… that."

"He would if he thought it was necessary. Most people agree that what he did to Grindlewald and his followers was necessary, which is one reason he's currently enjoying a position as Hogwarts headmaster rather than an all-expenses-paid vacation to Azkaban. A fact which hordes of lesser sorcerers doing time for lesser crimes resent greatly, I can assure you. Of course, no one can _prove_ anything – and no-one wise particularly wants to."

"So what did he do, then?" she asked, already suspecting she knew the nature – if not the details – of the answer.

"He killed them," Crane said simply. "Every one of them. With alchemy. Do you want me to tell you the actual numbers?"

_The same art I'm trying to learn..._

"Fine. I can keep a secret."

"I don't doubt it, and the number you are looking for is well over two-hundred thousand. When you get out of school, I have a job offer for you. Of course."

"What manner of work," she asked.

"A job that I imagine you will find quite satisfying, provided you enjoy applied sorcery. We can be partners in crime… figuratively speaking, of course. I need someone to carry on my legacy, after all, and I suspect you have both the talent and the motivation."

"We'll see," she said. "So what do I have to do first?"

Erik Crane found her a used copy of his father's old textbook, as well as a book on muggle chemistry, a few charts of elemental symbols and drawings of circles, and one book which appeared to be mostly lists of chemical compounds. Her instructions were to start with the basics, and memorize as much as possible – draw a few basic circles, work on the analysis and later deconstruction of basic physical constructs. According to Crane, a skilled alchemist should be able to analyze, deconstruct and reconfigure nearly anything almost instantly, with the single caveat that you could not get more out of a reaction than you put into it. The equation had to balance.

That made sense, considered alongside the rather hazy memories from her dreams. _Equivalent Exchange… you don't always get what you pay for, but you always pay for what you get._ She wondered what the price would be for her lessons with Erik Crane – his one condition didn't seem to be much of a price at all, so she imagined she would discover the true price later.

The man insisted on escorting her out of Knockturn Alley – he seemed old-fashioned in that. And decidedly paranoid. She wondered if it was Fenrir or the Ministry that the man was worried about.

"Can't have my first true student in thirteen years getting damaged," he had said, as they walked. "Speaking of which… I don't mean to pry, of course, but if there is ever anything you need help with, don't hesitate to ask. Your person is very important to me, someone needs to inherit the shop, as I said before. If I have an heir of some sort, then the Ministry can't get a hold of all the objects that I have."

_Not you too…_

"Why _exactly_ do you imagine I need help?"

"It isn't difficult to figure out, really, if you know what to look for. And you might consider taking a few occlumency lessons while you're at it. I hear professor Snape is good at that sort of thing."

"You were reading my mind again," she asked, horrified. _You utter bastard._

"Only the parts of it that happened to be slipping out around the edges. And as I said, it is hardly difficult to tell that _something_ is wrong. Quite aside from the insomnia and apparent narcolepsy, of course."

"I don't need help. I get enough of that from Mrs. Weasley. Just teach me."

"As you insist, but I don't think that the Weasleys will be of much help. But if your person, as in your body or your soul, Merlin forbid, get hurt, you cannot expect me to not interfere."

He left her at the entrance to Diagon Alley with a bow and a flourish, then turned back the way he came, assuring her that they would need to talk soon. How this would happen was quite a minor detail in his mind. She made her way back to the Leaky Cauldron on her own, in a daze, passing by the crowds of shoppers without much concern.

_I did it_, she thought. She had found a teacher, gotten a few books, and, not least of all, gotten into and out of Knockturn Alley with her life intact.

When she got back to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry, Ron and Lupin still weren't back. She hoped they weren't out looking for her. The only person Hermione recognized in the common room was Tonks, who was sitting alone at a far table, staring into a mug of some hot drink that, knowing Tonks, was something a great deal stronger than Butterbeer. The young woman looked morose, sitting there without even a book to read. Hermione joined her at the table, setting aside the stack of books and papers she had managed to acquire during the day. Upon noticing her, Tonks's demeanor seemed to shift sharply back toward her familiar cheer, and Hermione had to wonder if she wasn't the only one putting on a show for others.

"I see you managed to locate the bookstore," Tonks said, raising an eyebrow at the pile now occupying space on the table. "Anything I'd be interested in?"

"Meaning pornography disguised as romance? No."

"I'm not that desperate, girl."

"Are you sure? Because I know of a few muggle books that might catch your interest."

"I do have standards, you know. Just not the typical ones." Tonks laughed, but there was something brittle and edgy in her laugh that made Hermione regret her teasing. Tonks took a deep drink from her mug, grimaced and smoothed her wild pink hair distractedly. _Thinking about Lupin?_ Hermione wondered. _Or is there something else on her mind?_

"How have you been doing, anyway?" Tonks asked. "Want some chocolate? You look like you need it."

"Not really. Especially considering the sort of things you tend to put in it."

"Suit yourself. Where's the boys?"

Hermione could tell from the hesitation in her voice who she really wanted to ask about.

"Still shopping, I imagine," she said. "I decided I needed a few more books, so I went off to look around."

Tonks frowned at that. "You really shouldn't be wandering around on her own," she said. "The dementors – "

"Are not prone to attacking in broad daylight, in a crowded street. You know that. And anyway, I can conjure a patronus as well as anybody else. I'm not a child."

Tonks nodded reluctantly. "I know how that goes. I suppose I'm just not used to you being so… imprudent, I guess. Moody would go into conniptions at the thought of any one of you lot wandering around without an armed guard."

_If only you knew_, she thought, suddenly amused at the whole situation. Tonks thought it unwise for her to be wandering around Diagon Alley… Knockturn Alley was not even something to be considered.

"Moody thinks none of us know how to watch out for ourselves," Hermione said.

"Amen to that," Tonks said, lifting the mug of hot chocolate in an ironic toast. They settled in to listen to the lull of common room noise and wait for the others to return.

Tonks wished she didn't feel so guilty about simply taking a break. She knew she had a right to take the same advice she and Kingsley had given Hermione earlier: spend a few minutes relaxing and recuperating once in a while. The world wouldn't fall in the time it took for her to sit down and have a drink. Besides, she did need time to think, alone, with no distractions. If only she didn't have this constant feeling of sand falling though the hourglass, time wasted and unable to be recovered.

Seated in a quite corner of the Leaky Cauldron, she wrapped her hands around a mug of dark, bitter hot chocolate – spiked with a shot of Firewhiskey – and ran through possible Elric-locating strategies in her mind. The boy should have still had the Trace on him. He didn't. He should have been doing magic, which was detectable by a skilled searcher like herself or Moody. He wasn't. The blasted kid seemed to have stepped right off the face of the earth, and to make matters worse, just that morning she had been told by none other than Albus Dumbledore that the little bastard was considerably more important than they had realized, which meant no forgetting about him and getting back to her proper Order duties. Poor kid.

Well, Elric-hunting was a welcome break from dementor duty, at least. She had been subsisting on a steady diet of chocolate and more chocolate these past few months, and she needed it. Predicting the things' attacks was far from easy, and actually facing them, over and over, was harrowing.

_They can't be killed. They can only be banished. Temporarily._ She muttered a curse. Where the hell did the bloody things come from, anyway? Was there really such a thing as a creature that couldn't be killed?

She had been trying to get access to the records about dementors – their history, their nature, the nature of Azkaban – since she had first been assigned to drive the things away from wizard and muggle settlements. And she had been obstructed at every turn. No information whatsoever – or none that she had access to, anyway, which amounted to the same thing. Even Kingsley hadn't been able to get those records for her, which meant they were very classified indeed – the best that he had been able to do was indirect information about Azkaban, and a few prisoners' reports. Not bloody much. And she didn't know of anybody else who could…

_Sirius Black_. The name swam to the top of her mind unbidden, and she didn't know what to do with the thought once it was there. Sirius Black had been the first to escape the "inescapable" prison. He had to know something useful about dementors – some flaw or weakness… something. Sirius Black was, she reminded herself, a brutal criminal and a servant of the Dark Lord, and as such, not likely to be much help to a half-blood traitor like herself. But he had to know something… It was almost enough to make her want to hunt down her dear, murderous uncle herself, just to get the information out of him – by the cruciatus curse or anything else that worked, if necessary. Veritaserum, perhaps – Snape should be able to provide some of that, assuming she couldn't procure it on her own.

_How did you do it, you bastard?_ she muttered to herself. _How?_

Someone slid into the seat next to her, and Tonks looked up to see Hermione Granger, by far the most sensible and least golden of the Golden Trio, settling a huge stack of books and papers onto the table. Typical…. No, not quite typical. A closer glance at the books revealed titles like _Introduction to Alchemy_ and _The Animagus Transformation: A Theoretical Approach_, and the drawings were practically incomprehensible, albeit naggingly familiar. Had the girl stumbled upon a few new interests, or was this "just a little light reading?"

Hermione was alone. No Harry or Ron in sight… and no Lupin, either. Tonks quashed her disappointment. It seemed she never got to see the man these days, but then, it wasn't as though she had actual proof he even wanted to talk to her, much less… anything else. But she was convinced it was just his stupid shame that kept him away from her, and she could deal with shame, if only given the opportunity…

Hermione, Tonks noted, looked excited and jittery and afraid, all at once. Had there been another fight between Hermione and the boys, perhaps? Those seemed to be happening a lot, lately. Or had the girl gotten into some form of trouble? Hermione was responsible – almost maddeningly so, on occasion – but Tonks could remember being that age, not so long ago, and teenage mischief was common even among the most seemingly predictable. Andromeda and Ted had certainly never suspected even half the trouble Tonks had gotten into and out of on her own. And as for Hermione, the girl had a devious mind beneath that good-girl exterior, to the point where Tonks wondered sometimes if she wouldn't have done just as well in Slytherin.

But then, house loyalty was one of the few sticking points between Tonks and the rest of the Order. She was set on proving that Slytherin was more than a hothouse of Death Eaters and bigots – hell, she was walking proof of that fact, even if no one seemed to accept it. Instead she had to endure constant scrutiny and mistrust by all but a few of her colleagues – no important missions, no covert information, no respect. The Order trusted her, for the most part. Her fellow aurors at the Ministry were just waiting for her to turn traitor. She had to confess for the most part that she felt the same about them.

As for Hermione, it wasn't like her to just ditch Lupin without a good reason, but whatever that reason was, it wasn't Tonks's business. Teenagers needed their privacy. Up to an extent. Tonks debated with herself as to just what that extent was as she talked with Hermione – mildly surprised that she seemed to be familiar with muggle pornography, unless that had been just a joke. Or an attempt at distraction… Hermione was definitely hiding something. Tonks was trying to work her way around to ascertaining just what when the door to the little inn slammed open, causing people all over the room to glance up in irritation. Harry rushed into the room, followed closely by Ron Weasley and Remus Lupin. She lifted a hand to call them over to the table, and they sat down.

She hoped it wasn't obvious that her eyes immediately went to the werewolf, or at the very least that it didn't seem as though she was checking him out. Which she wasn't, she told herself. She just wanted to make sure he was all right. He didn't seem to be – he looked tired and stressed and anxious, though it was difficult to determine if the cause was anything new. Lupin _always_ looked tired and stressed and anxious. She met his eyes and smiled at him invitingly. He smiled back and immediately looked away – just like a shy teenager, she thought. It would have been cute, if it wasn't so damned irritating. She wondered how long it would take the man to realize she didn't _care_ about his affliction.

"Harry. Ron. Remus," she said. "What's up?"

"Where's Moody?" Harry immediately asked, not so much as bothering to acknowledge her presence. _Seriously lacking in social graces_, she thought.

"Off stalking Death Eaters, I assume. Why?"

"Because we found him!" Harry said, his eyes bright with triumph.

"Who?" she asked.

"That weird bloke, of course," Ron said. "Ed. We ran into him outside the bank, so we followed him back to where he was staying." Tonks noted how Hermione sat up and took notice at the mention of Elric's name. _Ah… Is _that _how it is?_ Interesting as the possibility was, however, more important was the prospect of actually getting something accomplished.

"What? Where?" Tonks demanded. What Lupin told her next left her breathless.

"He's staying at the old Black place."

Harry glared very pointedly as Lupin said the name, and Tonks wondered if he knew of her ancestry, or what he would have to say when he found out.

_The old Black place…_ the prospect of visiting her mother's ancestral home filled her with uncertainty. Andromeda had not liked to talk about her family, and from the little she had said, Tonks understood completely. And more than anything else, Andromeda refused to talk about her cousin Sirius. The two of them had been close, Tonks suspected, right up to the point the man had turned traitor. Neither of them had been particularly fond of the traditional Black politics, and certainly not their methods of running a family, and Sirius had been one of the few to support her mother's decision to marry a muggle-born. Sirius's treachery must have hit Andromeda on a very personal level.

And once again, she had to wonder why it had happened? Sirius had escaped his family, been free, been happy. _Why_ would he switch sides? It made no sense. Did the actions of a lunatic have to make sense? Was the Black madness genetic? Would she end up as a lunatic too?

_Lunatic_… Hermione had told her the origins of that word one, when the girl had been in a show-offy mood and felt the need to start lecturing on etymology. _Driven mad by the full moon. Just like loony, loopy Lupin… well, at least I'll be in good company._

She listened distantly to the conversation of Harry, Ron and Hermione, which was a surprisingly effective method of distraction.

"Where've you been?" Ron was interrogating Hermione. "You missed a great adventure."

"Shopping," Hermione replied dismissively. "I bought a few books. And I got a job offer."

"It figures."

"You shouldn't be out on your own," Lupin told Hermione, sounding very much like a teacher once more.

"That's what she said," Hermione told him, tilting her head in Tonks's direction. The girl didn't seem particularly penitent.

"Well, listen to her," Lupin snapped. "Tonks knows what she's talking about. Or have you forgotten that you're a potential target?"

Pleased as she was to hear him complimenting her, Tonks found herself worried. Something was definitely going on in Lupin's mind – he didn't usually lose his temper, even when he was frightened and angry. And at the moment, he was definitely both.

_Well, the Black house would do that, wouldn't it?_ Lupin had been close friends with Sirius Black. More than friends, according to some of the nastier rumors she had heard. She hoped that wasn't the case – not that she was closed-minded or anything, but if she had the bad luck to fall in love with a man who was ignoring her because he was gay… It would be just her luck. Either way, he certainly wouldn't want to be reminded of her dear convicted relative.

Hermione agreed not to do anything reckless again, which, in Tonks's opinion, was rather a foolish promise for anyone who spent a significant amount of time in the company of Harry Potter. But it seemed to mollify Lupin, who allowed Harry and Ron to tell Hermione their account of following Elric, while he and Tonks turned their attention to hammering out a plan.

It was decided that the Order would pay a visit to Grimmauld Place early the next afternoon. Lupin would be staying with Ron and Harry – he clearly didn't want anything to do with the Black house, and Tonks frankly wasn't surprised. It was to be a friendly, social visit: convince the boy to go to school, warn him of the state of the world and any other essential information. Hermione would tag along as a matter of diplomacy, as she seemed to be on fairly good terms with Elric. And Tonks would tag along as her young, innocuous, clumsy self, and see what she could see. It should be an interesting experience. Educational, certainly… and she would finally be able to see the inside of the place that had haunted her curiosity from childhood.

Back in Hogwarts, the other Slytherins had always been curious about the inside of Grimmauld Place, the Black family quirks and customs, and she had always been forced to admit her ignorance. It had become a bit of a joke. She had been the Black who wasn't a Black, the blood traitor's daughter deprived of her proper heritage… her classmates had found the prospect hilarious. For her part, Tonks had tried to tell herself it didn't matter. She didn't want to belong to a house of Death Eaters and depraved sadists anyway, now matter how much of a reputation that sort of thing brought you in Slytherin. And that had always been what her mother had told her about the family – that they were evil, plain and simple. But she couldn't deny a growing curiosity about her ancestry, an almost morbid fascination. It wasn't that she cared much about blood purity or any of that stupidity, but she had hated being the ignorant little half-blood who knew nothing of her origins. She had wanted to know the secrets of the other half of her family.

Well, tomorrow, she was finally going to start finding out.

The next afternoon couldn't come too soon. Hermione spent a night and a day wondering what she would find inside the Black house – a place widely rumored to contain some of the oldest and darkest enchantments and artifacts known to wizardkind – and deflecting Harry's resentment that he got left behind while she got to go. He obviously wanted a closer look at Grimmauld Place, if only so he could do his best to burn it to the ground. His buried hatred of his parents' killer had reawakened, and was manifesting in grouchiness and sullen withdrawal, as he brooded over Pettigrew's letters. She tried to talk to him a few times, only to be met with anger.

"Look, there's nothing you can do," he had said, "So why don't you stop sticking your nose in where it isn't wanted? Go read a book, or something – or get your pals in the Order to take you on another mission somewhere." Hermione didn't like just leaving her oldest friend to feel miserable, but there wasn't anything to be done when he was in one of his moods, and there was no point in enduring his temper.

As for Ron, he didn't want to go anywhere near the Black place – "What if he's still there, mate? Or what if he comes back? He'll murder the lot of us." Lupin seemed to agree, and spent most of the morning trying to dissuade her from going along.

"This is a job for trained aurors," he told her. "You're a very intelligent girl, but – "

That was when her own temper had finally snapped. "This is a job for someone who won't drive Elric into defensiveness just by showing up. I don't know what Dumbledore wants with him, but if you want him on our side, you're going to need me. So how about a little respect?"

"She's right," Tonks said. "Black isn't likely to show up back there. Everything I've ever heard from my mother says he hated that place." She hesitated. "His childhood wasn't the best, you know. And anyway, he's got no reason to return to the first place anyone would look. If I were him, I'd probably skip the country, or just lay low somewhere unconnected to the past."

"As all evidence suggests he's been doing," Shacklebolt said calmly, and Moody grudgingly agreed. At that, Lupin was forced to bow his head in resignation and let it go.

At last, it was time to go. Lupin let them go with a final "be careful," and Harry stood beside him in the doorway, still angry. He seemed to feel betrayed by her willingness to go along, as though she was acting against him personally, and Ron was backing him up. Well, that was their choice, she thought coldly, feeling a little betrayed herself. They needed her much more than she needed them – as soon as there was a term paper to write, they would be all smiles and supplications. Until then, let Harry sulk.

The little group consisted of Moody, Shacklebolt, Tonks and Hermione herself. They would be traveling by apparition to a concealed area of London, which meant they would have to leave the boundaries of the Burrow, which in turn meant a short hike through the surrounding countryside. Shacklebolt and Moody, in their heavy robes, had to be fairly uncomfortable in the midday heat, but neither gave the impression of anything beyond stoic indifference. On the other hand, Tonks's face was shining with feverish excitement, and she kept up a constant stream of nervous chatter about everything from muggle rights to popular bands, which the two older aurors indulged with the occasional "uh huh" or "yeah."

Hermione was content to hang back and listen, enjoying the feeling of the breeze on her skin and the chance for a bit of exercise. She resolved to start walking more, maybe even working out, but suspected that once again, as soon as school started she wouldn't have the time. Especially not with that apprenticeship hanging over her head, which wasn't really something she cared to contemplate.

Once they passed the boundary of the Burrow's protective spells, Moody raised a hand, and first he and then Shacklebolt vanished. Tonks put a hand on Hermione's shoulder, and she felt the suffocating darkness of apparition close around her. It was a spell she had yet to get used to, and she didn't think she would ever feel comfortable with it. Then they were in an abandoned, trash strewn lot, surrounded by the graying facades of old buildings. She felt momentarily dizzy and sick, and was glad of the fact that the others didn't seem to be paying any attention to her.

Exiting the alley that led to the vacant lot, Hermione was confronted with a long row of identical houses, behind a tall, spiked iron fence. Shacklebolt led the way, unlocking the gate with a tap of his wand, and the others followed silently, Moody guarding their backs as though they were about to be attacked at any moment. Shacklebolt rapped loudly on the door – a heavy, black-painted affair with a knocker in the shape of a silver serpent – and stepped back. For a long moment nothing happened, and Hermione wondered if anyone was home at all, or if Lupin had been mistaken. Then the door creaked open slowly, and they were greeted by the same emaciated elf that she had encountered in front of Gringotts, muttering invectives under his breath.

"Filthy traitors… mudbloods… scum…"

He appeared to be wielding a frying pan nearly as large as he was – Hermione was amazed he could even lift the thing, with his atrophied muscles – and it seemed to be intended for use as a weapon.

"As it happens," Moody growled, "three out of four of us are from very old and recognized bloodlines, none of us are scum or traitors, and we would like a word with your master. Whoever your master is. I hope you don't have a problem with that?"

"Master Elric," the elf hissed, "does not want a word with you. Nasty blood traitors will leave Master Elric alone."

"You might at least let him know we're here," Tonks suggested. That was a mistake. The house elf took one look at her and hefted the frying pan, screaming "Filth! Vile traitor's brat! Out, OUT of our sight!"

He ran at Tonks, only to be suspended in midair by Moody's immobilizing charm.

"How very hospitable," Tonks said. "I see what mother meant. Don't hurt him, Moody, he can't help being mad." Moody backed off, but didn't release his holding spell or stop looking at the elf as though it was a bomb about to explode.

"Treacherous little bugger," he said. "They have magics we don't, so don't let your guard down." Hermione shook her head ruefully. The house elf looked far more pathetic than threatening, but Moody was Moody, after all.

"What is going on out here?" said Edward Elric's voice, and Hermione looked up to see him standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, looking caught between amusement and anger. He looked tired, and his hair was a mess, and she didn't think he was exactly pleased to have visitors at the moment. He looked them over, but gave no indication of what he thought of their sudden appearance on his doorstep.

"We wanted to see how you were doing, if you were getting on all right," Tonks said. "So we dropped by for a visit. Then your elf attacked us. Me."

"Yeah, I can tell. You'd better let him go. Kreacher, don't attack any of these people unless I tell you to. Don't attack anyone unless I tell you to, or they attack you first, or they call me short, tiny, or in other words anything that implies that I am 'little'."

Moody waved his wand again, and Kreacher dropped to the ground, still cursing. Hermione frowned in disapproval; Moody could have been more gentle. Tonks was right, it wasn't as though Kreacher could help being… how he was

"Now," Ed said, "let's get inside, and you can tell me exactly how the fuck you knew where I was staying, and why you even care. And then you can leave. I really don't care what you have to say at the moment."

He led them through the door and down a long, narrow hallway lined with dark oil paintings of various Black ancestors, all glaring balefully. The wallpaper was gray and peeling, and the carpet, though ornate, was thin and faded. The overall feeling of the place was heavy and oppressive, almost tomblike; it didn't seem to trouble Ed, but Tonks was pale and hushed, and even Shacklebolt and Moody seemed unusually tense. Hermione felt like she was invading somebody's private world, and that her presence was both known and disapproved of. It was an effort to keep from glancing over her shoulder to see if she was being watched.

"I think…" Tonks said, in a voice barely above a whisper, "I think this house doesn't want us here."

"It's just a house," Shacklebolt told her.

"Is it?" she asked. "Are you sure? It feels angry, like it wants us gone. Like the muggle house… Rose Red."

There was nothing really to say to that – it seemed the house did want them gone, or if not the house, at least its inhabitants. Kreacher muttered and cursed, and Ed stalked along impatiently, saying nothing.

He led them into a dimly lit sitting room with yellowish gas lamps set in nooks along the walls, and ancient furniture casting heavy shadows on the walls and floor. Serpents seemed to be a definite theme – carved snakes slid along the walls and mantelpiece, and up the legs of chairs and tables. The room was cluttered with weird, disturbing little objects – twisted candles, tarnished silver boxes and rusty daggers, the skull of some fanged beast currently being used as a paperweight, heavy books bound in dark leather – but nothing had a speck of dust on it. The outside of the house had looked as though it were falling apart, but the inside was spotless, suggesting that it had recently been cleaned and repaired by magic.

The only mess was the pile of books and paper strewn across the floor – it looked like Ed had been interrupted in the middle of a desperate, last ditch study session, of the sort that Harry and Ron were well familiar with. Hermione stepped closer and saw some of the same books she had bought for the next term at Hogwarts, but most of the drawings looked alchemical in nature. She recognized several very complicated arrays, and longed to decipher them, but when she moved closer Ed glared at her, and she heard a low growl from across the room. The large black dog from before was lying in a far corner, watching her. It looked much cleaner and sleeker than before, but once again its eyes tracked her with an intentness that seemed both intelligent and deliberate. She backed away, edging closer to the others.

"If you don't mind, I have a few things to take care of," Ed said. "Have a seat, if you like, but don't bother the dog or the elf. Both have been known to attack strangers." He laughed oddly, and Hermione could tell he wasn't happy about having the Order of the Phoenix around. She chose to remain standing while he finished writing something on a piece of parchment, then folded it up and gathered up the mess he had left on the floor. He left the books in a neat pile, but handed the stack of alchemical drawings to Kreacher and told him to put them somewhere safe.

When Ed left the room, she chose to follow him, hoping to get in a few words in private. He didn't greet her when she stepped up beside him, but he did move aside to make room for her, and slowed down a little to match his pace with her own. A good sign.

"So," he finally said, as they climbed a steep staircase, "you decided to drop by for a friendly little visit."

"Yeah," she said. The stairwell was lined with the heads of aged house elves, displayed like hunting trophies. She looked at them and then quickly looked away, wondering what sort of twisted family did something like that to their servants. _Pleasant people, these Blacks…_

"What _do_ you people want with me? Another interrogation?" Ed looked at her, raising one eyebrow, and she was surprised at how much the hostility in his voice stung. They had parted on good terms, she had thought, maybe even as friends – and the idea of having friends besides Harry and Ron was something she had never really contemplated before. Now, though, he seemed to view her as an enemy, or worse, an inconvenience.

"No," she said. "Not another interrogation. We were worried about you… there is a war going on, you know."

"Between you people and the snake chimera. Yeah."

_Chimera,_ she noted. _Voldemort is a snake chimera…_ she filed the information away for further use, but decided not to pursue that particular question at the moment. Things were shaky enough already.

"Just between you and me," Ed continued, "he didn't look all that menacing. I've fought worse than him before." _Bragging?_ Hermione wondered. _Lying?_ He sounded more matter of fact than anything else, just like he had about the torture.

"It's not just him," she said. "This is a war with three sides, and, well, it can be hard to tell two of them apart at times…"

They reached the top of the stair, and Hermione noticed the second floor was much less clean than the first, with fewer signs of human habitation. Ed led her into an unusually bright and airy room overlooking the street. There was a bird roosting by the window, all bright red and gold feathers; it seemed to shine in the dusty sunlight. _A phoenix, _she realized, though she didn't believe it at first._ How?_ The birds were extremely rare, and very selective about people. Where had Ed acquired one, and where, come to think of it, did Dumbledore's phoenix come from? Odd that she had never wondered before. Ed walked over to the phoenix, and began tying the piece of parchment to its leg, as if it were an owl. That struck her as disrespectful, but the bird itself didn't seem to mind, and when he opened the window and released it into the air, whispering a destination that she couldn't manage to hear, it flew off willingly.

"We only have a few people on our side," Hermione continued, "And about half of our inner circle is downstairs, waiting to talk to you. As for the Ministry… they've been infiltrated since the beginning. Slowly... for mocking purposes. Shacklebolt seems to think that it could have been done in less than a month."

Ed smiled crookedly. "So what you're telling me is not to trust the government? I think I already figured that one out. But I guess what you're really saying is I should be trusting you."

She hesitated. If she said the wrong thing here…

"These are good people, Ed," she told him, hoping he would believe it. "Even the worst of us is better than our opposition, and Tonks, Kinglsey, Lupin and everyone… they wouldn't betray you."

"They mean well to say the least," Ed said. "But that doesn't mean they're immune to being manipulated. No offense intended, but I think I'll choose to keep my trust in myself, for now."

"But – "

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not dumb enough to help any group that calls itself something like the 'Death Eaters.' But that doesn't mean I'll be a follower of your Order, either. I don't plan on being anyone's dog."

"Sure. You don't have to. But if you ever need help or anything, they can be trusted."

"And the ringleaders? Can they be trusted too?"

"I…" She found herself thinking about Erik Crane, his casual paranoia, the way he had talked about Dumbledore. _He killed them. Every one of them. With alchemy. _But they had been evil, like Death Eaters today, and the situation had been desperate. Could she fault the man for doing whatever he had to?

"It doesn't matter," she said. "What we're doing is necessary."

Ed laughed rather mockingly at that. "Talk to the opposition and they will say the same thing. The lesser of two evils, right? Well, maybe you're right. And I certainly won't get in your way. Maybe I'll even help you out, if the situation arises. After all, I've got no interest in letting the bad guys win, especially when they torture me and insist on insinuating… certain things… about my height…" He said that last bit through gritted teeth, and Hermione was left with the distinct impression that he was more bothered by the insult than the torture.

"That said," Ed continued, "don't expect me to take orders from anyone. I'm through with being a good little soldier."

Hermione suspected that this was the most she was going to get from him, and that she was lucky for even that. A promise of noninterference, a hint of sympathy – that was more than Shacklebolt or Moody had managed to get from him, and she wasn't surprised. Ed seemed to have some serious issues with authority and she couldn't blame him. But she had no authority over anything, she was just trying to muddle through as best she could. Same as him. She met his eyes for the first time that day, and he offered her a slight shrug and the hint of a smile.

"Let's go," he said. "Your friends are probably dying to question me some more."

So they turned back down the stairs, past the house elves that she once again avoided looking at, and back into the sitting room where the others had remained. Only Shacklebolt was seated, staring into the low fire in the fireplace with an air of infinite patience. Moody was stalking around, muttering about dark objects and curses, and Tonks followed him in silence. They all looked up as she and Ed entered the room, and Tonks went so far as to wink at them, as though they had been up to far more than simple conversation. Hermione went over to join her and Moody, and Ed took a seat on a large couch, where the dog was now resting. He gave the animal a friendly pat on the head, and glanced around at the human inhabitants of the room.

"Now, he said, "What exactly do you want with me?" His temper seemed to have cooled a little – at least he was making an effort to be polite, or rather, not overtly rude.

"Just a simple visit, actually. We thought we'd see how you were getting along," Shacklebolt said.

"Oh?" Ed's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Well, why don't you just sit down and have some tea and crumpets, then? Kreacher, why don't you get these lovely people some crumpets." _So much for no overt rudeness. _The elf bowed low, and headed off in a direction that Hermione surmised led to the kitchen.

"We wanted to talk to you about your schooling, actually," Tonks said from across the room.

"Right," Ed said. "The place… with the name… Warthogs, or whatever it was."

Hermione suspected that he knew perfectly well that it wasn't 'Warthogs, or whatever,' but he seemed to be taking this conversation like it was indeed another interrogation, and being deliberately dense.

"You said that you'd consider it," Tonks continued. "Have you come to a decision?"

"I have, actually. I've decided to go."

Tonks's triumphant grin was cut short when Ed continued "Kreacher has been very helpful. He's showing me all about this strange place of yours, telling me bits and pieces about how the school works. So while I appreciate any offers of assistance you might be making, I think I'll be fine on my own."

"Of course," Shacklebolt said evenly. "We're glad you're getting along, and you do seem to know what you're doing. But how much do you know, exactly, about the, uh, political situation of the day?"

"Enough to know it's more war than politics, and enough to stay far away. It isn't my business."

"Some people might think," Moody said roughly, "that your decision to make your home here is itself a declaration of allegiance." The scarred old auror stalked over to stand beside Shacklebolt, probably not trying to come across as threatening but definitely succeeding.

"Those people would be wrong," Ed said. "This is just a place to stay. And as I always say, if you can't find a door then make your own."

"I don't know if you realize it," Moody said, "but this house is the property of a family of dark wizards and Death Eaters, and it is no place for a small boy to be living."

Ed grimaced at that, but to Hermione's surprise, didn't respond with violence. "First," he said, almost calmly, "I'm not _small_. Or _little_, and I am definitely not SHORT. Secondly, when I got here the place was a dump. No one has been living here for years, and I doubt anyone plans to. And thirdly, I cleaned the fucking place so don't you go around claiming that you know the meaning of the word dump!"

"He's right," Tonks whispered to Hermione. "This house is as good as abandoned."

"Dreary old place, isn't it?" Hermione whispered back.

"Dreary, yeah," Tonks said, "But there's a lot here, isn't there?" She was parsing absent-mindedly through the clutter on an old bookshelf; Hermione saw her pick up a little silver box, turn it over in her hands, and set it down again without opening it. Come to think of it, most of the ornaments she had seen were made of, or decorated in, silver.

"They do seem to have an affinity for silver," she mused aloud. "Why do all the old families have an affinity for silver?"

Tonks looked at her oddly, and she realized her mistake. How would Hermione Granger, mudblood, know anything about the habits of the wizarding nobility?

"How do you know about 'all the old families?'" Tonks asked her.

"I don't know…" she said, trying to recover. "Draco and Lucius Malfoy always seem to be wearing silver, though, and so do a lot of the others. Just something I noticed, I guess."

"Well, it is a Slytherin color," Tonks said, "So I doubt they're exactly terrified of werewolves or anything." Tonks's expression darkened for a moment, before she recovered her equilibrium and the mockery in her voice.

"But I had no idea you were so interested in the Malfoys, Hermione. A less interesting bunch of people I can't imagine. Don't tell me you've been sneaking out and … oh, I dunno… having sex with Draco?"

"Say what?" Hermione made a face. "Someone's got sex on their mind. Constantly. I'm worried about you, Tonks."

"Shh. I don't want to miss this. Listen."

Moody and Shacklebolt were not having much luck in bringing Ed around to their point of view; in fact, the best of their efforts only seemed to be pissing him off further. Both men were used to dealing with criminals, and Moody in particular tended to operate on the assumption of guilty until proven innocent.

"I know it's _technically_ breaking and entering," Ed was saying, "but _technically_ no-one's even here to care, and _technically_ I'm doing them a service in return. Cleaning the place, keeping it safe… equivalent exchange."

"My point is not that you're breaking and entering – though you are. My point is that you should not have been able to get in here at all without defensive enchantments going haywire on your ass." Shacklebolt's temper was clearly fraying; Hermione didn't think she had ever heard him swear even mildly. Ed seemed to have that effect on people.

"You can't just 'make a door' into the Black house, not without incurring some serious difficulties, to put it lightly. Would you like me to tell you what happened to the last idiot who tried?"

"That is, _if_ you broke in to begin with," Moody growled. "As opposed to being _invited_."

Ed sighed. "By who? The notorious Sirius Black himself? There's no one around to care that I've borrowed their house. And you still haven't managed to convince me why any of this is your business in the first place."

"You don't think we should be concerned about the fate of a young man alone in a strange situation?" Tonks asked.

And that was the point where things began to get weird. Because, as Hermione was coming to realize, Ed did not always know when to stop talking, and neither Shacklebolt nor Moody had much experience in dealing with his bizarre sense of humor.

"Is that so?" the boy said. "I don't get it. I mean, I know I'm devilishly handsome and all that, but I think I've made it perfectly clear that neither of you two are my type."

Moody and Shacklebolt looked at each other, momentarily at a loss for how to react.

"Believe me," Shacklebolt managed, "You're not exactly our type either." Big mistake.

"Ah," Ed smiled evilly. "_Our_ type? Then… you two are…?" He looked them over appraisingly, making it adequately clear what he was getting at. Tonks snickered.

"Excuse me?"

"_Definitely _not."

"Of course, it makes perfect sense now," Ed continued, ignoring them. "You're always together, you're always backing each other up… pretty similar in personality, too, though admittedly, you're less crazy," he nodded to Shacklebolt. "So, naturally, one thing leads to another, and you realize your deep, true, underlying affection, and the rest is history."

"Don't be stupid."

"I can't speak for Mad-Eye, but that's just… not my thing."

"Stop trying to distract us from the point at hand, Elric."

Tonks nudged Hermione with an elbow. "Notice how Moody never actually denies anything," she whispered. "Think the kid's on to something?"

"Um, no. I saw him snogging one of the female teachers at the Yule Ball. Though I will admit that it was the fake Moody... "

"Proves nothing."

Hermione was amazed at how randomly and effectively the conversation had been derailed, but Ed wasn't over yet.

"Don't try to deny it," he said. "I've been in the military, I know how it goes."

_He's been in the military?_ Ed didn't look any older than she was. _He's making that one up_, she decided.

"Late at night, you're both lonely, you're in the middle of a war, neither of you has gotten laid in ages…" Ed raised an eyebrow. "I've seen it happen, you know. A few bottles of wine, someone suggests a game of strip poker…"

"Strip poker?" Moody asked. "What the hell is that?"

"Beats me," Shacklebolt replied. The evil look on Ed's face grew slightly more demonic.

"You guys have never heard of strip poker?" He said.

"Is it some sort of muggle thing?" Moody asked.

"It's a card game. A very simple card game, with very simple rules."

Tonks looked at Hermione in horrified awe. "He's not going to – "

"I think he is."

"They're not going to –"

"You're forgetting how dense wizards can be sometimes," Hermione said. By this point, it was clear that neither of the two aurors was in full control of the situation. For all the dark wizards both of them had killed or captured, they didn't seem to have much of an idea how to deal with this sort of situation, and so they were both going along with whatever came up. If Ed wanted to trick them into a game of strip poker – though why he _would_ want to was highly questionable – he probably could.

"Kreacher! I'll need a deck of cards right now!" Ed said. The elf disapparated with a sharp crack, and reapparated a few minutes later with a deck of cards in hand. He handed them to Ed, who sat them down on the coffee table. Moody peered at the deck warily.

"Now," Ed was saying, "I'll explain the rules as we go along. It's a game of chance, and you're trying to get a better hand than your opponent. Oh, and – jewelry counts."

Moody looked at Shacklebolt quizzically. "Jewelry counts? For what? Ante?"

Shacklebolt just shrugged. Ed shuffled and dealt, still smiling like a maniac, and Hermione suspected she knew at least part of what all this was about. Revenge.

"Want to rescue them?" Hermione asked.

"Nah. This could get interesting." Tonks said.

"Interesting? That's not my definition of potentially seeing those two disrobing, but to each her own, I guess."

"Eh, I don't know… Moody's not much to look at, but Kingsley's kinda cute."

"He's old enough to be your dad, Tonks," Hermione said. "And what about Lupin?" She regretted adding that last part instantly – Lupin was a sore spot with Tonks, and she probably shouldn't have even mentioned that name.

"He's still cute. And Lupin won't look at me. Anyway…" Tonks said, "you do know what they say about black guys, right? _And_ bald guys?"

"Er." This was just getting awkward. Of all the things she did not want to think about at the moment…

"The same thing they say about short guys. Aren't you even curious?"

"I believe they recently revealed a scientific study recently proving that all that was just an urban myth."

"And you know this how? Or should I say, why? Don't tell me this is a particular area of interest to you?"

"I pick up random facts, OK?"

"Oh, come on. In the interest of science?"

_She's joking, right?_

Their whispered conversation was not lost on the little group in the center of the room, though fortunately no one seemed to have picked up on what they were actually saying. "Excuse me," Moody shouted, "But we are trying to memorize the rules of a card game here, and you are being distracting. Now. Does a full house beat a flush?"

"I think it's the other way around," Shacklebolt said.

"No it isn't. I'm sure of it."

"Moody's right," Ed said. "Full house beats flush, but not straight flush or royal flush. You lose this round."

"Damnit."

"We are leaving right now," Hermione said, grabbing Tonks's arm and pulling her toward the door.

"But – "

"Now." Hermione dragged Tonks out into the hallway, and almost as soon as they were out of the room, the pink-haired girl collapsed, wheezing with laughter.

"They're falling for it. They're actually – "

Hermione could hear Ed explaining to through the door that whoever lost a hand needed to remove an article of clothing. Too, too weird. And she clearly wasn't the only one who wanted to avoid the weirdness inherent in the situation; the black dog poked its head around the doorframe, then ambled out into the hall and sat next to them. Perhaps the animal had no more desire than she did to see Mad-Eye Moody or Kingsley Shacklebolt in any state of undress. That was a slightly more comfortable thought than the idea that it was there to keep tabs on Ed'sstray and uninvited houseguests.

"Hey," Tonks said to her, "Now that we're out of the spotlight, let's look around, see what we can dig up."

"Are you sure that's – "

"I've got as much right to this junk as Elric, I'd say. And we might find something useful."

"Moody says the house is full of curses," Hermione said, but in truth, she wanted to explore as much as Tonks did, so when Tonks started walking towards the door in the far wall, Hermione followed without protest. The dog followed as well, moving as casually and deliberately as ever. The animal's presence made Hermione nervous, but she decided to ignore it; it did nothing more menacing than prowl at their heels as they moved through the halls of Grimmauld Place. She wondered briefly if its purpose was to prevent thievery or damage to the house, and if she should even be assigning that much awareness to a dog at all. But it was definitely watching them, especially Tonks.

The rest of the house was little different from the rooms she had seen so far: dark, grim, and very old. Tonks moved through the rooms like a child exploring someplace forbidden yet fascinating, and Hermione wondered what it must be like for her, exploring for the first time what might have, in different circumstances, been her ancestral home. She seemed, for the most part, to be enjoying herself. However, as they stepped into another room, Tonks stopped so abruptly that Hermione almost crashed into her, and Hermione heard her gasp slightly. Looking around, she saw why.

More junk was piled along the walls of the room than she had seen in the rest of the house put together – she noticed a rusting suit of armor, what looked like a music box of some sort, several books, and a few other things that she couldn't identify – and it looked as though someone had just hauled it in here and left it. But that wasn't what caught her eye. A huge tapestry adorned the far wall, showing a branching, treelike design with stylized branches and leaves, and Hermione saw the names of various members of the most noble and ancient house of Black – but not just names. Portraits were woven into the tapestry above each family member's name, though unlike wizard paintings they were unmoving, sneering or laughing or simply staring in grim silence. Hermione could see the resemblance Tonks bore to some of her relatives, in her pointed face and dark eyes, but that didn't seem to be what had caught the woman's attention. Because in some places the tapestry had been charred beyond recognition, portraits erased from the tapestry as simply and brutally as their owners must have been dismissed from the family.

Tonks walked up slowly to the tapestry, running her fingers over the fabric as if in a dream.

"That was my mother," she said softly, pointing to a blackened spot on the wall. "And Regulus – he was all right, I hear, before he joined up with You Know Who," she pointed to a handsome, dark haired youth whose picture was still whole, "And…"

_Sirius Black_. The space above that particular name was burned worse than Andromeda's portrait had been.

"What do you suppose he did to merit that?" Hermione asked. "I mean – I always heard he was Voldemort's darling. Wouldn't they have honored him?"

"I don't know. Maybe that happened before he joined. Mum says he used to be OK too. You know, before…"

"It doesn't really make sense, does it?"

"Not really," Tonks said, and Hermione could tell she didn't want to talk about it much more. "Who knows why people change? Anyway, lets see what else there is in here." She turned abruptly away from the tapestry, toward one of the mountains of stuff that had been piled against the wall. The dog, sitting near the door, followed her with its eyes but made no other movement.

Hermione joined Tonks in examining the objects that someone – presumably Ed – had left there. Most of them looked like junk, but she doubted any of them actually were; they had been left in this room for a reason, and she could feel powerful magic emanating from a few of them.

"Cursed," Tonks was muttering, as she looked through the pile, "cursed, cursed, ooh, that's a nasty one, cursed… don't touch that music box, that thing looks dangerous…" Hermione wondered how she could tell; certainly most of the items seemed to have an unpleasant aura, but she herself couldn't decipher anything specific about them. Perhaps auror training involved learning how. She scanned the mess, but couldn't see anything that looked useful to them, and she had no idea what Tonks was after. Something heavy and gold caught her eye, and she reached for it.

It was a golden locket, with a linked chain that coiled like a snake in her palm. Emblazoned on its cover was a serpentine S, but it bore no other decoration. It seemed to weigh more than it should have, though gold was a heavy element to begin with.

"Do you recognize this?"

"Nah…" Tonks said dismissively. "That looks like Salazar Slytherin's symbol, though. Probably another house pride thing, this house is full of them."

"It feels creepy," she said, well aware that they had been sorting through creepy things for the past fifteen minutes.

"Then leave it alone. The thing is definitely cursed, and I doubt it will be much use to us."

Hermione returned the locket to where she had found it, feeling a curious reluctance to part with the thing. As soon as she was able to pinpoint the emotion in her mind, she decided to take Tonks's advice and leave the locket alone; if there was one thing she had learned in the sum of her experience and her studies, it was that irrational attachment to a magical artifact was never a good thing.

"What _are_ we looking for?" she asked.

"Anything that can help us fight," Tonks replied.

Hermione saw her pause over a book – something about dark creatures and death magic, from what she could make out – and slip it inside her black jacket. Hermione wasn't sure what she thought about that – Tonks probably had more right to this place than Ed did, so it wasn't exactly thievery, but Hermione somehow doubted the woman wanted the rest of the Order to know she was removing things from the premises. Moody, especially, wouldn't be happy at all.

_Dark creatures…_ Hermione thought. _Is she hoping for information about werewolves, or something else?_

That was when she noticed the dog. Before, the animal had been content to sit in the door and watch, but now it was padding toward them, growling low in its throat. _Uh oh._

"Um, Tonks," she said, but the auror had noticed as well, and was slowly backing away. The dog barked once – a warning? – and continued to advance.

"Get out of here," Tonks said to the animal. "Bad dog. Bad." She tried to shove it away with her foot.

"Don't piss off the dog, Tonks," Hermione heard herself saying. "That is _not_ a normal dog, don't piss off the dog." She stepped backwards, inexplicably afraid, when it growled at her. Any curse Hermione tried to fire would hit Tonks as well, but she drew her wand anyway – if the animal attacked, she would immobilize both of them.

By that point, the dog had backed Tonks into a corner, and it was circling around her legs, snarling. Fortunately, it didn't seem intent on attacking, but if Tonks kept trying to shove it away, it would. Then the auror stumbled backwards, swearing, and Hermione almost expected the dog to go for the jugular, but it didn't. As Tonks fell, the book she had filched fell out of her jacket, and the dog leapt gracefully to catch it in its mouth. Then, with a single look backwards at the two of them, the dog trotted out of the room, tail wagging.

"Well, I guess taking things with us is out of the question, then," Tonks said. "Smug bastard."

But that wasn't the end of it. A few minutes later, Ed appeared in the doorway, holding the book and flanked by the dog. He appeared to be missing a few pieces of the silver jewelry he had been wearing – which meant that the strip poker game had, in fact, continued – but other than that, he was fully clothed.

"What are you two doing in here?"

"Looking around," Tonks said.

"Nosy, nosy," Ed said, shaking his head. Surprisingly, he didn't really seem to be all that upset, mostly just amused.

"My mother used to live here," Tonks said, perhaps a bit too defensively.

"Really?" Ed looked her over. "Well, that explains the fashion sense, at least. I doubt whoever decorated this place would have considered it possible to go wrong with spiky necklaces and little skull earrings. But I think it's time you guys stopped stealing stuff – not that it matters to me, but I have decided to watch over this house, and that includes the junk that's been accumulating in it. Wouldn't want to piss of the infomous Sirius Black... Anyway, you two are missing a great show."

"Mad-Eye Moody striptease?" Hermione said flatly. "I don't think so. Some things, no one needs to see."

"Be that as it may," Ed said, "I really don't think I'm going to let anyone wander around alone anymore, lest things start to go missing. I don't want to have to deal with more stress than is nessecary. Come on."

Hermione's face was burning with embarrassment, not so much because they had, in fact, been stealing, but because they had gotten caught. Of course, she had never planned to take anything with her to begin with – that was all Tonks – but she couldn't expect Ed to know that. It was lucky he seemed to find it funny, rather than a cause for kicking them all out of the house then and there and giving his allegiance to Voldemort.

What was going on with Tonks, anyway? She wouldn't normally jeopardize a mission for personal reasons like that, not in all the time Hermione had known her. Hermione was becoming more convinced that whatever she had been looking for, in that book and elsewhere, had nothing to do with Remus Lupin, and she wondered for the first time what the extent of Tonks's duties in the Order might be.

And _what_ was going on with that _bloody_ dog?

There was a pile of discarded clothing in the center of the sitting room, to which Ed's sole contribution was a few pieces of serpentine jewelry. Shacklebolt had lost his earring, his weird little Ministry hat, his shoes and an outer robe, and Moody was doing even worse. The aging auror had been forced to discard boots, socks, gloves and his heavy robe, and he was sitting there with his scarred arms folded across his bare chest, looking distinctly unhappy. He had not given up his eye, which Hermione found to be a bit of a relief, but even so, Moody wearing nothing but trousers was not a sight Hermione wanted to remember.

"You know," mused Tonks, "I really didn't think they'd actually go through with it. Pity Moody seems to be losing – I'd have thought he'd be using that eye to cheat."

"I wouldn't cheat," Moody snapped. "Elric's the one cheating, I'm sure of it. And the rules make no bloody sense."

"_And_ you're bad at bluffing," Shacklebolt added. "It's definitely a good thing that I'm the Order's Ministry man."

"If you're so great at subtlety, then why the hell are you also half naked? Answer me that, Shacklebolt?"

"Bad luck. Obviously."

"Hermione," Moody asked, "Is this game really a muggle custom? I don't believe it."

"More of a stupid drunken pastime than a custom, I'd say," Hermione said, fighting to keep a straight face. "I don't think I know anyone who's ever actually played it."

Moody glared at Ed. "Well, I'm through with this," he said, starting to put his robe back on. "And it's about time to be going." He and Shacklebolt were hastily redressing, their faces stony. It was as if Hermione and Tonks's reappearance had broken some sort of bizarre spell, and allowed them to see the absurdity of the situation. Neither man looked comfortable in the least, and if Hermione was not mistaken, Moody seemed to be blushing. Ed, of course, seemed to find the whole thing quite simply hilarious.

"Leaving already? But it's been such a pleasant visit. You didn't even try Kreacher's crumpets."

"Probably poisoned. Or drugged."

"Why would I want to drug you?" Ed asked innocently. "I've already got you half naked in my living room."

Moody asked Shacklebolt "Are you absolutely sure there's nothing we can bring the little bastard in for?"

"Not without handing him over to the Ministry." It was true –Scrimgeour's men handled all criminal charges, and if Dumbledore really intended to use the boy as a sort of secret weapon, the only thing worse than losing him to the Ministry would be losing him to Voldemort. Assuming, of course, that those two events wouldn't, in fact, amount to exactly the same thing. That was one reason, Hermione suspected, why the Order hadn't been more forceful: they had no legal recourses. The only options were diplomacy and kidnapping, and kidnapping wasn't likely to work.

"If it's any comfort to you at all," Ed said, "I don't plan on siding with this Dark Lord of yours."

"Fair enough," a now fully dressed Shacklebolt said, realigning the little hat on his bald head. "But what you plan and what actually happens don't always coincide. I think it's a mistake to cut yourself off from our help."

"I've never been afraid of making mistakes," Ed said.

"If you ever need anything – " Tonks started.

"I'll know where to find you," Ed told her, "But don't get your hopes up."

By this point, both Shacklebolt and Moody were both ready and eager to end the visit; they said their strained good-byes and fled the premises, talking quietly with each other. Hermione caught the words "Never live it down" and "application of a memory charm is definitely illegal." After the two older aurors had stepped out the door, Tonks pulled Ed aside, looking more serious than she had at any time that day, with the possible exception of that moment in the tapestry room.

"I have a message," Tonks said. "From Remus Lupin. He says… he says be careful, and don't let your guard down. That you're mixed up with dangerous events, and not everything that seems friendly really is."

"And do you agree with him?" Ed asked her.

"It's good advice. I don't know why he felt compelled to give it. I mean… a surfeit of trust isn't exactly one of your problems. Um. I'll be seeing you, I guess." She waved and stepped outside, while Hermione lingered.

"Is it the elf he's referring to, you think?" Ed asked Hermione. "Because really, Kreacher's not bad, when you get to know him."

"I think he means the dog," she said.

"The dog?"

"Surely you've noticed that animal isn't normal."

"It's just a dog. Unusually intelligent, sure. Kind of aggressive. Doesn't much like most people. But basically a good dog."

"Lupin's terrified of it."

"Probably," Ed said, "he just has a bit of a phobia. Was he ever attacked by a dog or anything, when he was a kid?"

"Well, yeah, sort of," she said, uncomfortable revealing even that much about Lupin's past.

"Well, there you have it. Of course he's going to be afraid."

"I guess."

"That dog has never done me any harm," Ed said. "Never tried to manipulate me, never tried to use me, never… I don't know… _stolen_ anything from me – I'd say he's more deserving of my trust than most humans I know."

"Aside from the time he attacked you on the Weasleys' lawn," Hermione pointed out.

"He didn't know me then. He hasn't attacked me since."

"Well, your choice, I guess," she said. Just don't come running to me when that animal goes and bites off your arm."

Ed smiled crookedly. "I don't think that will be a problem. I'll see you at school, Hermione."

She recognized the dismissal in his words, and didn't see anything to be gained by prolonging the conversation. She walked over to join the other three just outside the gate. As soon as she got within hearing distance, Shacklebolt held up a hand as if to make some sort of proclamation.

"First of all," he said, "before we head back to the Burrow – I want your word of honor…"

"Nobody mentions today again," Moody finished.

"Ever."

"OK," Hermione said. "It never happened."

"Tonks?" Moody asked.

"Fine," Tonks said. "We had a nice little visit, complete with biscuits and tea, and nobody got naked at all."

"Half naked," Moody corrected.

"Shirtless," Shacklebolt added. "It is perfectly natural for a man to go without a shirt. Or shoes. Slightly undignified, at the worst. Certainly not improper."

"Of course it is," Moody said. "And now that that's been established, we can leave."

And so they did. On the walk back, both Shacklebolt and Moody were quiet, and Tonks was even quieter. Her hair seemed to be a duller shade of pink than usual, and she seemed uncharacteristically pensive – though Hermione was beginning to realize that she wasn't at all sure what was characteristic for Tonks. The woman seemed to have a way of acting lighthearted to disguise her true emotions, whatever those might be. Had the visit to Grimmauld Place disturbed her that much? It had certainly disturbed Hermione, though she wasn't sure why – the dog, the Black family tree, Ed's surprising frankness and rapid personality shifts… that boy, too, seemed to have more going on in his mind than he wanted anyone to know. Not unlike Hermione herself, really. How many people did she know, anyway, who had made a habit out of hiding pieces of themselves? How many people did she know on a surface level, but not really understand at all?

Back at the Burrow, Hermione immediately sought out solitude and a place to think, away from Harry and Ron. She didn't want to deal with Ron and Harrys constant whining and questions about the inside of the Black house. If anything had been gained today, she didn't see what it was; she had a few disconnected pieces of information and a good look at the inside of the Black house, but more questions and no answers. And the whole experience had been more than slightly surreal. She decided to bury herself in the books she had gotten in Diagon Alley, and the books she had gotten from Crane; if she was going to go through with this apprenticeship – and she was – than it was past time to get started studying. She picked up a beginner's text on the nature of sorcery, and began to read.


	9. Chapter 9

_Half Pain _

_Chapter 9_

_Disclaimer – I own nothing, just the current plotline. _

_Ah, I know what you all are going to say – when the hell is Ed going to go to Hogwarts? _

_All I can say is very soon. And then you all groan… thinking 'what better things does Ed have to do besides going to Hogwarts where he will be sorted into the Gryffindor House and become best friends with Harry and Ron?' You will find out. _

_I want to insert a special thank you to Linnya (spelling?) She inspired the ending of this chapter… _

_Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. _

_Remember – reviews are love. Please Review. _

_Chapter nine – Grim Times_

_This dream was different. It was like he could control what was happening in it. Different. What was this type of dream called? It had to have a name. Lucid… Lucid dreaming. Where he could control what happened in the dream. This was something that didn't happen too often; never, in fact. So he might as well take advantage of this, enjoy being in control of his There was a certain want for peace at times. His days were full with Kreacher, with the dog, with studying for the school… and everything else. It never seemed to end. If it wasn't those things, then it would be other things. He hadn't had a day to himself, a day to rest, in a long time. So sleep could be considered an important thing. _

_Dreamless sleep was the best kind. He didn't like to remember the dreams that he had… the recollections of events that were happening around him. He didn't need to be reminded of all that stuff. The philosopher's stone. Kimbley. Scar. Alphonse. The less he dreamed, the better. dream. _

_The dream itself had an odd setup. It was neither dark nor light. Twilight might have been the word. He was alone in an empty world. And it was so quiet. The silence bothered him. He could force himself to sit still for only so long before finally getting up to do something. There was a need to keep on moving, even while he was dreaming apparently. His wish was granted; the scenery changed and he was staring intently at a wooded area, though notably, through someone else's eyes._

_It didn't really matter whose. _

_The person's hand was clutching a note or a letter of some sort. It had already been read and the contents were upsetting. Either that or someone had come up to the person and had said something insulting. This person was crying, after all. _

_"I am not wrong. There is something wrong about all this…"_

_The person turned away from the window, tore up the letter, and threw the contents out. "I am right… but… but… how can I prove it? I failed with the program. There isn't any way that I can prove that I am right."_

_Program? Failed? He wondered to himself. Was it something like the whole state alchemist thing, getting into the government to supposedly help the population? He was glad that the person had failed to get into whatever the program was. It was horrible to be chained to the government. But he had a feeling that the person in question was actually talking about two different things that might or might not be related, except in the fact that both were stressful. _

_"I will succeed. I will prove myself. I am just as good as all of them. I am just as powerful as all of them. There is no difference between me and them. I don't need to work at the ministry to prove myself. I don't need their help. I can do it another way. I can prove it to all of them."_

_"_Master! Master! Master!"

Ah yes, couldn't ever forget about Kreacher.Kreacher was here to stay, in his own Kreacher-like fashion. Of course, there were benefits to having Kreacher around. The house-elf constantly praised him and never called him short, partially because Kreacher himself was even shorter. For once in his life, Ed was able to tower over another person. That in itself brought him great satisfaction.

"Yes Kreacher, I'm up." He said this under the assumption and hope that Kreacher was in another room. Getting another five or ten minutes of sleep would be nice. Wear something relatively comfortable and take a pillow on the train. It would be nice to get in a nap. After all, he had been studying all week and was almost caught up on all of the stuff.

"Master lies! Master is still asleep! Shame on Master! Like shameful one… yes… like shameful muggle loving Master. Get up and make yourself look decent! Young Malfoy will be there. Mistress Narcissa will be there! Master will like them…"

Kreacher was in the room, jumping up and down and screaming. Ed sighed regretfully while getting out of bed and shooing Kreacher out of the room. Kreacher had a unique way of being annoying that just made Ed do some things… things that per one helped the elf shut up and per two helped him fit into society more. Wizard society, to be exact.

The five days that he had before the term started were, to say the least, eventful. Apart from trying to cram a shitload of information into his brain, Kreacher had been making an effort to force some ideals into his head. It hadn't taken the house elf long to realize that constant praise and assurances that 'Master is not short and is still growing' worked wonders. There were two things that made the five days eventful, and they didn't involve studying. Rather, it was the shopping for school supplies and dealing with Al the dog's extensive flea problem.

The first thing that was called for was a bath. When he had sent Kreacher out to get a few things – mainly food – he had made sure to include in the list two specific things: a doggie razor and some flea shampoo. It sounded simple in his mind. Wash the dog and shave him. Alexander had liked baths, after all, and he could think of no other way to get rid of the fleas.

Simple. He had thought that it would be simple.

The first thing that was called for was shaving the dog. Logic would have said, in his mind, that you would have bathed the dog first. Not so, Tucker had told him, you shave the dog and then bathe it in order to prevent the fleas from nestling in the hair. Of course there were two essential problems to shaving the dog. One of them was that the dog was almost as big as he was. The second was that, unlike Alexander, Al the dog did not want to be shaved.

So there was a definite need for him to be creative in this situation.

Alcohol.

Now, he was against animal cruelty, but a tiny bit of alcohol in the dog's drink wouldn't hurt him. Just make him compliant enough to make the whole process go smoothly. He couldn't guarantee what would happen after it was all done; the dog could go into depression or try and kill him, either one worked. But if there was a way to make the whole process go faster without injury to himself or the dog, he was willing to try it.

Not to mention that it would be funny.

The dog had noticed that there was dog shampoo and a pair of slippers – thankfully he hadn't found the razor yet – and was practicing evasive maneuvers. This was convenient for Ed, because it left him alone in the kitchen to spike the dog's water just ever so slightly with his alcohol of choice, scotch. The dog, he hoped would not be able to tell the difference.

It was all a matter of choices. The dog could drink from the water dish, or the dog could not. But Ed had decided to give the dog a bit more of a reason to do so. Mainly by chasing the dog around the Black house for a few hours, a plan that resulted in one or two knocked over things and a broken vase, much to the disgrace of Kreacher.

The ruckus had been welcome. It was nice to get exercise in this manner, rather than just stretching or trying to spar alone. Running up and down the stairs, through the kitchen, into the basement, in and out of rooms… randomly transmuting and un-transmuting doors… it only took about five or so hours of this to wear out the dog enough for him to run into the kitchen and drink a sizeable amount from the water dish.

Al the dog had never been more compliant.

In less than forty-five minutes Ed had successfully shaved and bathed the dog. There was no hair left on that dog, save the face, and oh, did it look ridiculous. It didn't help that Ed had given the dog a rat-tail as well. But the important thing was that the flea problem was solved… that was the only thing that mattered in the end.

The dog, however, disagreed.

Upon recovering from the small amount of alcohol it had ingested, there wasn't much time before it figured out what had happened. It hadn't been anything personal, but the dog didn't care and a steak dinner wasn't going to make it feel any better. Needless to say, Ed could catch up on transfiguration at school… because wrestling with the dog was a lot more fun then trying to cram yet another six years of pointless material into his skull.

And there would be a lot of catching up to do, and apparently the catching up wasn't just going to apply to academics. Kreacher had insisted that he buy several more sets of robes, and after the elf had made a fuss at Madam Malkin's, Ed had agreed to buy said robes. 'People will want to meet you, and you can't meet people in shoddy work robes.'

Kreacher had the seamstress toss aside the robes that Ed had ordered, and proceeded to shout entirely different orders at the seamstress. There was something odd and desperate to Kreacher's manner while he stood next to the seamstress ranting about how Master Elric's robes should mirror the Young Master's in every little way. Needless to say, the only thing that Kreacher readily approved of were the white gloves that Ed had picked out. Fourteen pairs of white gloves. No chances were being taken.

Normally, he wouldn't have given in to the orders of another person so easily… but the praise, worked in with the constant nagging, had a strange effect on him. He just wanted to get this shopping over and done with so he could spend the rest of his time studying. Maybe take the dog out on a walk too; Alphonse just looked so depressed and bored. Maybe he should get him a magical doggie bone or something…

There had been other reasons for getting that shopping done early, mainly that he wanted to keep a low profile. He didn't want any visits from the Weasleys, Dumbledore, or Remus. That man creeped him out, reminded him of Majahal… and he didn't really need any reminders of the first man that he had killed.

That, however, had not worked out in the end. He had been followed back to Grimmauld place by Remus, and a few of his friends decided to drop by for a small chat. That had been an… interesting experience. As it happened, Remus himself had decided that it would be in his best interest to not show up. Ed wasn't quite sure why this was; he hadn't really said anything to make Remus want to avoid him. But whatever. People would be people. And Remus, like Majahal, seemed like a highly neurotic individual.

Now, though, Ed was stuck with quite a few sets of dress robes that he really didn't think he needed. Shopping for clothes had, in itself, been annoying. At best, it had been illogical; he was letting himself take fashion advice from an elf who wore a dirty pillowcase. But Kreacher was, surprisingly, very picky about what he wanted his master to wear. Only this type of robe would do, only that type of fabric was best (and they must be lined in dark green), and they must be _this_ shade of black, not _that_ shade, thank you very much.

Of course, when Ed thought about the prospect of buying clothes it all sounded relatively simple in his mind. Get the clothes and leave. Don't make a scene. This hadn't happened. Rather, Kreacher had been a pain and at first Ed had done the stupid thing and tried to argue with him. He regretted this. Never underestimate the power of an insane house-elf. This one had been cooped up for over fourteen years, not to mention left with an 'opinionated' portrait.

The insanity had given Kreacher one very essential talent (besides cooking)… nagging. Kreacher had the ability to use this voice and bring up point after point just like a woman browbeating a man. True to Ed's character as said male, he gave in and just let Kreacher go about his odd ways and get him way too much clothing that was way too fancy.

The cloak, for example: it was made out of the finest wool and had an elaborate silver snake clasp. There had been a good one made out of heavy cotton, with a plain clasp, and that would have done just fine. Nope. He had to get the fancy one. Then there was jewelry. He had to get a snake tie-pin. He had to get the snake ring. And of course the shirts just had to be made out of the finest linen or cotton. Whichever, it didn't really matter to him, and for once it didn't seem to matter to Kreacher either.

In the end, he had ended up with three pairs of dress robes, two lined in dark green and one lined in dark red, a fact which Kreacher had complained about bitterly. Not only dress robes, but a black cloak lined with black silk, nine white button up shirts, seven pairs of black dress pants, and two pairs of black leather shoes.

He was all prepared to go to school, in perfect style, just like the Young Master… whoever that was. As a rule, Ed had decided to not ask about the family. Call him crazy, but he didn't just have it in his heart to see Kreacher torture himself because of some stupid order his Master gave him. He had a conscience, essentially. This was not a good thing… sometimes it could be used against him. But he could put up with the elf, just as long as he kept up with the constant praise. Damn right, he was Master Elric.

The only thing that Ed didn't mind was the bag. It was made out of leather with the Flamel embroidered on it. When Kreacher had suggested this, he went along with it. Leather, he reasoned, would hold up a lot better than just plain cotton, or whatever the hell they were using.

In true fashion to whatever force out there that made his life miserable, clothes weren't the only thing that Kreacher was highly opinionated about. It turned out that he had an opinion on just about everything else, from what books to buy to what parchment and quills to buy, though personally, Ed would have preferred regular ballpoint pens. Eventually he had just sat down at the ice cream parlor and let the elf buy whatever he wanted. It had been fun. He had let the dog pick out whatever ice cream he wanted, and then picked out some ice cream for himself. It had been nice. This world was slowly sucking out his sanity. There had been a moment when he wanted to pretend like this had actually happened: he would have started up a conversation with the dog. Harry and Remus, who he was sure were watching him at the time, might have thought it amusing.

After the Diagon alley trip, he had not been idle; all he information that these idiots had spent the past five years cramming into their skulls, he had to learn in less than a week. Kreacher had not been idle either. Aside from trying to shove ideals into his skull – 'you must get into Slytherin, you must! Young Malfoy will be in there and you will get along perfectly with him!' – Kreacher had desperately been trying to make his dear Master Elric dress in the way of wizards.

High society Wizards.

Besides that, the little elf even managed to pick out a trunk for him, and in true house-elf fashion, pack it with books, clothes, everything else he had wanted and all the things he had not wanted but Kreacher had though that he might want. Though it seemed that packing wasn't the only thing that Kreacher had time for this particular morning, for on the opposite side of the room was the outfit that he was supposed to wear.

A person would think that the elf would be more concerned about getting to King's Cross on time. Nope, not with the way that Kreacher organized things. Everything was perfect, breakfast was probably already made. All Ed really had to do was put on his clothes and add a few things to his trunk. A few things that he had bought without the help of Kreacher.

The wizarding world struck him as severely screwed up. But there are some things that he just didn't want to be… extraordinary. Mainly underwear, actually. He just wanted some plain white cotton underwear that didn't do anything weird, like masturbate the person who was wearing them… or whatever other fucked up concept this twisted society could devise. There were a few other things, too: some military style razors, shaving cream, essentially everything that comes in a good dop kit. There was no guarantee that any of that stuff was going to be provided to them once they got there.

This had merited a secret visit to Gringotts, where he exchanged his money for some muggle money. Thankfully, Kreacher did not find out about this; the elf had a strange want to follow him everywhere and keep track of his every want, need, movement, or whatever… and on any list of all the many things the elf disapproved of, muggles would have to be given a place of honor. That little trip to the bank had been one of the only times that he hadn't spent studying or playing with the dog. Just out shopping by himself… it was almost touching.

"Is Master dressed?"

Ed had mixed feeling about dressing like a wizard. It was always smart to blend in with the society around you, but at the same time, it was like he was surrendering his sanity.

"Just a minute Kreacher," he yelled.

Sighing heavily, he picked up the robes that the house elf had left him. They were black wool, lined with dark green silk. The clasp to the robes was strangely elaborate; it had a snake on it. Big surprise there. One of these days, he was going to find out exactly what the deal was with these people and the snakes, but that could wait. Underneath the robes, he put on one of the white button up shirts, dress pants, and black dress socks. He liked the idea of wearing a lot of clothing, it helped cover up the metal arm. Kreacher hadn't questioned him as to why he insisted upon getting the white gloves while they were at Madam Malkins. The elf had almost encouraged it.

The more formal the better, and one must impress the right people when out in public. Looking in the mirror, hair still loose, he didn't really look like himself. What he really wanted was to be in his old clothes. Forget the new stuff, the snake tie pin (apparently he was going to get the tie at school), the snake ring. Give him the jacket Izumi made for him, the leather pants, and the boots any day.

As he walked into the bathroom, he braided his hair. One thing after the other, it was all going to go in a perfect order today. First he would shave and braid his hair. Then he would go to Kings Cross station and go to the weird wizard school. Then… he would catch up with all the students, and then…

Maybe…

He would find his way back home. To Alphonse. That was his ultimate goal. This was only a minor road block on the way. And Kreacher, well, he was only one of the minor nuisances/amusements that occurred. As annoying as the elf was, there were things that he was good at.

Like cooking. He was going to miss Kreacher's waffles. The nagging, he would be able to live without. "The Black way is the right way, Mistress says that it must be done this way and Kreacher does… it pleases master Elric… yes it does…" Kreacher muttered the entire way. Kings Cross Station wasn't that far from the house and so, with Kreacher and Al the dog in tow, they had set off.

"Kreacher, just exactly how do you get onto the platform?"

"Master Elric doesn't know?" Dressed as he was, there were quite a few people that were giving him odd looks. He didn't really blame them.   
"No, Kreacher. I have never been to London before."

"Shame. Master Elric has missed out on a lot. Has Master Elric been to Wiltshire?"  
"I really don't care…" he said as they stopped in front of a pillar of sorts, between platforms nine and ten. "Now how do we get on the platform, Kreacher? They gave me this ridiculous ticket that says we have to get onto Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross Station."

The house-elf smirked and just walked into the wall.

"You just walk into the wall. Walk… into a wall. _That_ makes sense. Oh yes!" He flung up his hands and then grasped his trunk firmly. Closing his eyes, he ran towards and through the wall, part of him still convinced that he would end up smashing into it head-on. But when he opened his eyes again he was on a platform, Platform 9 ¾, with the Hogwarts Express in full sight. If there were any doubts about whether he was in the right place or not, they were not pressing in his mind. There were many people dressed in the wizard's robes.

One person in particular.

It was a concept that Hohenheim had explained to him while he had been in Munich. On the other side of the gate, there was another him, another Alphonse… another Scheizka… the concept in itself was haunting. Alphonse. He hadn't taken the time to think about whether or not he would see Alphonse. Even if he did see him, it proved nothing. He would remember nothing of his life on the other side of the gate. He would be older here, he would have lived another life, so therefore he would be a different person. Entirely.

But Ed couldn't help but feel…. shocked at what he saw.

"Al…" he heard himself say, softly.

The boy him front of him looked to be the approximate age that his brother should have been. The body that he had now was the body that Alphonse would have had, if… that… hadn't happened. He was taller than Ed, of course he would have been… But

still, it was Al that he was looking at.

"Mistress Narcissa!" Kreacher screeched. It certainly brought Ed out of his trance. "Master Elric! Mistress Narcissa and young Malfoy! I told you about them!" The elf bounded towards the woman, tears of joy streaming down his face, and landed at her feet. "So many years of torture, Kreacher hates Master! Kreacher did nothing to Master and yet Master hates Kreacher!"

"Kreacher, I'm not that bad to you. I let you do whatever you want!"

"Oh, Master Elric, you are the kindest Master that Kreacher has ever had. Kreacher was talking about other Master… other Master beats poor Kreacher and hates him… nothing like good Master Elric."

"Yeah, keep up with the praise… Has this 'other Master' of yours been visiting you while I have been there?"

"Yes…" Kreacher's face contorted in an odd way. "Kreacher disobeyed Master. Kreacher must punish himself." The elf started to bang his head against the sidewalk. Ed glanced over at the boy he deemed to be 'Young Malfoy,' the Al of this world, and saw that his face was plastered with an amused look. Not his brother. Nothing like his brother. Alphonse would have been horrified by this.

"Kreacher, stop. Please. Sadomasochism really creeps me out." The elf looked up at him in shock, hit his head against the sidewalk two more times, and then stood upright. "Kreacher is overjoyed to see Mistress Narcissa again."

"Pleasure. Tell me… Kreacher…how did you come to be in the possession of this… New Master…" Her voice was strained and she was very annoyed. Ed conceded that Kreacher could be annoying, but he still found himself disliking this woman for the disdainful way she brushed off the elf's adoration. Still, he couldn't help but try and figure out if he had known he back in his own world. It was a little game that he could play with himself.

"Oh! It was a miracle! Master said that he was of the purest blood and was related to us! Kreacher must serve him! It is true, Kreacher knows it deep down! You must be able to see! Mistress Bellatrix taught poor Kreacher how to see if people were of pure blood or not."

"Pure blood? Why would that matter?"

"Yes, the purest, for Master Elric is the son of…"

"Yes, yes I know that my father is wonderful, Kreacher, and we have been discussing all week how amazing it is that he had a son and how wonderful I am. Please tell me their names and how you know them. Is 'Young Malfoy' this boy's name?"

"No, they call him Draco."

"Draco?" Alphonse of another world was named Draco? Part of him was surprised at this… he had wanted to believe that the Alphonse of another world would be named Alphonse. Not Draco. On the other hand, he shouldn't have been surprised. This was another world after all, everything was different here.

"Yes. And Mistress Narcissa is cousin to Master… Master has TWO wonderful cousins." Ed suspected that there was a reason behind the emphasis in the number two. When he had the chance, he was going to take a good look at that tapestry. "Mistress Bellatrix is related to him."

"That name sounds shockingly familiar… wait, it was that woman who tortured me! You're related to her? Somehow I see it and somehow I don't. You just… don't have that look in your eyes… that look of 'I really am completely batshit crazy and am knowingly serving a mad- uh - thing.'"

Narcissa's lips were pursed shut. His comments were not taken well, but of course, they weren't meant to be. "So you are related to us?" she said.

"You could say that."

"Related. By blood, you say, through the Black line? Funny, blond hair really doesn't run in the Black family. It is a signature trait in the Malfoy line, however."

For some reason, Ed really didn't like the road this conversation was going down. Hohenheim's 'person-copy' principle was going to bite him in the ass, and this wasn't going to be the last time. Hopefully it would be the only time when he would directly feel it, but there was no guarantee of that.

"Honestly, I didn't take the time to look at the family tree, was busy cramming for school you see… And if blond hair doesn't run in the Black line, then… if you are a Black, why do you have Blond hair?"

"You look a lot like my husband." Narcissa said, choosing to ignore his question about her hair color. Sometimes people just couldn't handle valid points when they were presented with them.

"So do you dye your hair?" Ed said in an effort to keep the conversation from going where it was evidently going to go.

"Even more than my darling Draco does," she continued. It was as if she wasn't paying any attention to what he was saying. One of those people… again. Why did he always end up attracting these sort of people?

Wait a second. Oh shit.

"You know, there is such a thing as twin cousins… and according to the laws of genetics it is rare, but not overly impossible for two different people to look…" he said.

"Yes, but you don't look like Draco," Narcissa said, hysteria growing in her voice. "You look like Lucius, and I highly doubt that Lucius could have a twin cousin so young. So who is your mother, then? That Weasley-Prewitt traitor bitch or some whore from the Parkinson family? I think that I have a right to know who my husband's mistress is!"

Behind him he could see the entourage that was escorting Harry to the train. They gravitated towards him… physically. They weren't the only ones, everyone's eyes had gravitated towards them, but they were the only ones taking the physical action. Shit. This could not turn out well.

"Lady, really… I understand that… my appearance is slightly shocking to you but I really don't think that…"

"How dare you address my mother like that!" Draco literally screamed. Yet more proof that this boy was not his brother. There was none of the earnest tone in his voice. Even when Alphonse was angry his voice still full of sincerity.

"Well, what else am I supposed to do? Last time I checked the gentleman's handbook, it said that you were supposed to try and calm a lady down. Apologizing is the best route to this, and I can't really do that by walking away and singing Zipidi-do-da-day. I have to say something to her."

"I know my husband has mistress." She sent a scathing look at Draco. He wasn't allowed to interfere and defend his mother's honor. She was screaming about something, Ed really didn't know what, but the more he looked at her, the more she reminded him of someone… "Tell me who she is. How many whelps did he produce with her! Tell me!"

"I am most certainly not the son of Lucius and Mrs. Weasley. My mother's name was Trisha. Besides, I have never even seen Lucius Malfoy in my life so I hardly think that…"

"That doesn't prove a thing! You are lying about who your mother is! Tell me who she is!" Narcissa wore her hair loose, it fell well past her shoulders and it was obvious that she spent a great deal of time taking care of it. He imagined what it would look like if it was pulled up: only one image came to his mind.

Riza Hawkeye was Alphonse's mother in another world.

It was all there: the hair, the set of her face, the cold way she narrowed her eyes. There but skewed, as similar and as different from the original Riza Hawkeye –or the Riza he knew, he supposed – as this 'Draco' was from Al. His world's Riza Hawkeye would never get hysterical or shout, she would simply deal with matters coolly and efficiently, using a method that most likely involved bullets. And the Alphonse he knew would never display amusement at Kreacher's self-punishment. How could the same people turn out so differently? Were life circumstances enough to alter a soul – was there anything left of Al within the spoiled brat Ed saw in front of him? And Riza Hawkeye, cool, collected Riza into a screaming housewife?

Much as he would have liked to ponder these questions, Narcissa Malfoy didn't seem inclined to allow him the time.

"This Trisha slut will most definitely be hearing from me."

Killing this woman in the middle of a crowd of wizards, Ed reminded himself, would almost certainly not be a good way to start off the coming school year. Punching her in the face wasn't likely to be much better. The man with the weird-looking eye – Moody – was watching this little scene, and the last thing Ed needed was to give the man an excuse to arrest him for assault. So he just clenched his hands into fists and answered far more politely than the Malfoy bitch deserved.

"That will be hard, seeing as my mother is dead. She has been dead since I was ten. And as much as I would like to tell you where my father is, I have honestly no idea. Not that I care. I hate the man."

"My husband was wrongfully convicted. Your father is rotting in jail. That other man you speak of is not your father."

"Much as I regret saying it, I am quite sure that jail is the last place my father is at. As much as I would like it to be. Please get it through your head – I AM NOT LUCIUS MALFOYS SECRET LOVE CHILD! My father is a fucking asshole who is probably drunk in a gutter somewhere!" Somehow, Ed knew that he hadn't convinced her of his point. He had just reinforced it into her skull. She would do her best to prove that he was Lucius Malfoy's secret love child.

"Well, Lucius is in a bit of a gutter right now and I am sure that he would love to be drunk… on fine elf wine. Narcissa." Moody butted into the conversation. There was what looked to be a hint of a smile creeping onto his face; there didn't seem to be something quite right with this man. Reminded him of … oh shit… Alex Louis Armstrong, only without the muscles. And without the shirt-ripping fetish, thankfully. Ed wondered if that strip poker debacle had been a wise idea. Amusing as it had been at the time, he really hoped he hadn't given Armstrong's counterpart any bad ideas.

"Alastor," Narcissa sneered. Ed found himself relieved that her attention was off him for once, but Moody's intervention had only caused the crowd of gawkers to grow. This was not what he needed right now. Couldn't he ever have an easy, uneventful day?

"Of course, one can't deny the obvious resemblance between Lucius and this kid…" Moody commented, a mocking tone ever present in what he said. He didn't even bother hide it, much to the disdain of certain people around him. Certain people that included the girl he had that conversation with. She was standing with Moody's group, which included a crowd of Weasleys, Harry and his idiot friend, a pallid-looking Remus Lupin, and that pink-haired thief. What was her name? Hermione. Hermione was hanging back, looking on with mortified fascination at the situation unfolding in front of her. At least she didn't seem to think it was funny, or if she did she was hiding it very well.

Ed allowed himself to take him her appearance; she reminded him thoroughly of Scheizka, without the glasses. But it was safe to say that she was more beautiful than Scheizka. Hermione had let her hair grow out long; while this had the unfortunate side effect of more bushiness, it did frame her face quite nicely. Her overall figure was rounder than Scheizka's was; Hermione wasn't overweight, but she was no anorexic supermodel either. It made him happy to see that; he hated girls that were too skinny.

Not that he was the sort of person to ogle a girl like that. He wasn't a pervert. It was just that she was more pleasant to focus on than the little scene that was happening around him.

_Not a pervert… not like Mustang… not a pervert…_

"Though not quite as tall as one would expect a son of Malfoy's to be," Moody mused.

"Are you insinuating that I am short?" The uncontrollable rage started to fill his being, distracting him from Hermione's appearance.

"Do look an awful lot alike," Moody continued, ignoring him. "Too much to be dismissed. Kid, are you sure your last name shouldn't be Malfoy?"

"One – I am not short. Two – my last name is Elric. Three – my father is not Lucius Malfoy. Check the records – my fathers first name is Phillipus. I think that Kingsley guy tried to fill you in on that the other day."

"Records can be forged. Now if you will excuse us, Narcissa…" Moody said as he dragged Ed away, practically picking him up off the ground in the process of doing so. Kreacher looked at him, then Narcissa, and then back at him. He wasn't quite sure as to who to follow. One bark from the dog (who did know who to follow) and the elf was running to catch up with Ed, trunk in tow.

For someone so small, it was amazing that the elf could drag the trunk at all.

"Put me down, you crazed weirdo!" Ed yelled.

"Right. Now tell me…" Moody immediately started with the questioning. It wasn't all that surprising, but he had thought that the man might have had the sense to pick out a more private place.

"Enough, Moody, there is no need to question the boy in front of all these people… right before he goes to school. Put him down." Molly Weasley scolded. Then the man put him down, not because he particularly wanted to put Ed down… but because it was the most logical thing to do. If Ed knew anything, it was never mess around with woman, and clearly Moody agreed. For once the man displayed a bit of sense. They could be truly terrifying creatures.

"Now," said Molly Weasley as she made an effort to straighten Ed's hair and shirt collar. She looked angry. "Just like… them. Edward, do you have everything that you need?"

"Filthy Blood traitors!" Kreacher screamed. "Implying that Kreacher is a bad house-elf and not getting Master Elric was he needs for school! Kreacher would never do such a thing! He wants to serve Master Elric! He wants to make Master Elric happy! Master Elric is so much kinder than other Master…"

"Kreacher, please be quiet. There is no need to remind them of something that they are already aware of." Ed said as a way of addressing the elf. He shook off Mrs. Weasley, and took a good look at the rest of the little group. They all seemed to surround Harry, who for some reason needed protection. Ed's question was why? Harry just seemed like your average everyday idiot. "I have all my things. Kreacher did an excellent job getting them for me."

"If I may ask," interjected Remus, "How are you related to the Blacks? Kreacher won't answer to anyone who isn't blood related to the Blacks." His eyes were shifting back and forth, from Ed to the dog. As before, Remus looked like he wanted to throw up and laugh at the same time. Perhaps he was allergic to dogs? No, he had been attacked by one, Ed remembered. Definitely phobic. It was a pity – few creatures were more loyal or friendly than a well-treated dog.

"The stories that Kreacher tells seem to be contradicting, but we seem to get along quite nicely. I have been working on restoring the Black house to its former glory and so far I have succeeded. I think that if any of them turn up they should be pretty happy with the result. You should come by and see it sometime. We could play fetch with my dog."

"I think that I will pass on that." Remus coughed out, still trying to repress the laughter.

"Are you allergic to dogs?" _No harm in asking._

"I think that you better get on the train. You would hate to miss it." All traces of restraint were gone; apparently Remus had decided that the dog was not going to attack him. With the fear of Alphonse attacking him finally gone, there was no stopping the laughter. Molly and the other Weasley's shot Remus some looks begging him to stop. He didn't listen. Ed couldn't blame him. The man looked like he could use some comedy in his life.

"Whatever," Ed said. "Kreacher, I left instructions as to what you are supposed to do, but don't speak to anyone and don't communicate to them in any sort of way until we talk again. Do only as the instructions command until I tell you otherwise." A smile crept across his face. The elf had to do what he told it to do.

"Specific," someone muttered.

"I think so, personally." Ed said, taking his trunk and pulling it towards the train. In the background he could hear the dog bark two more times at Kreacher before he disappeared with a loud crack, and the saddened voices of the Weasleys as they wished their children off to school.

"You know, dogs aren't allowed at Hogwarts," a bossy voice said.

"I thought you of all people…" It was that girl. Hermione. The bushy haired girl. She was already dressed in her Hogwarts robes and wearing the prefect badge. Oh, yeah, he thought… he had one of those too, and had stupidly forgotten to put it on this morning. Quick check in the pocket revealed that it was there. It only took him a second to put it on.

"I got special permission." He interrupted, "Read the letter if you like. Say, are the prefects supposed to do anything specific while on the train?"  
"Prefect? You are a bloody prefect?" Said the red haired boy. That boy had the most wonderful talent of stating the obvious. Vaguely, Ed wondered what his other talents might be, and hoped that he would not have to be around him long enough to find out.

"It would seem so. Dumbledore thought that it would be best if I was a prefect, considering my excellent academic record." He hoped that particular lie would work. Snape had probably glossed over a great deal of his academic record for him, something that he would have to pay him back for.

"So you are the reason that I wasn't chosen!"

"You were chosen as a Prefect? I am surprised… in more than one aspect."

"Surprised! Why the hell should a person be surprised about me…?"

"Honestly, you two! Can't you do anything better than fight? Ronald, please try and have some tact for once! This really isn't the time to be childish, if you have such a problem with not being a prefect then take it up with Dumbledore. Edward, the prefects have to sit at the front of the train so follow me." She grabbed him by the arm, his automail arm, and pulled him towards the front of the train. He was suddenly glad of the layers of fabric that would conceal the automail… maybe there was a charm that would make his hand feel like human flesh.

There were a lot of maybes at this point.

She didn't seem to notice that his arm was made of metal, which was nice. Even if she did, she showed no sign of mentioning anything about it. A girl with sense. A girl with tact. She didn't let go of his arm until they got into the prefects' train car. There was something ironic about wizards taking the train to school. He would rather ride a train though. At least the train was normal.

He hadn't been sorted and so he was uncertain of what house he would a prefect in. He knew nothing of the four houses, except that Slytherin was the one that he wanted to be in. When he saw the different Slytherin prefects…. he saw that they were of the rich sort. That was the crowd that he wanted to be around, according to Kreacher.

He didn't feel entirely comfortable associating too much with the rich kids, and despite his rich appearance they didn't seem to want to associate with him either. That was fine with him. The head boy and girl didn't seem to know what to do with him either, without a house. So they informed him of his duties and told him that they could give him a more detailed version once they knew what house he would be in. After serving in the military, the duties didn't seem too hard. The only annoying part of it all would be the nightly rounds.

But on the other hand, that would provide a welcome excuse to wander the halls. But then again… this was a school full of horny teenagers. There was a high chance that on an almost nightly basis that he would catch a few of them having sex in the hallways. Definitely not a reason to look forward to the rounds, he reasoned as his eyes started to close. The other prefects were jabbering about something that really didn't matter. How hard could it possibly be to keep a bunch of idiots in line?

Maybe harder than he realized… but he didn't care. There was a want to take a nap and he wasn't going to deny himself. He pulled him dog closer to him, in an effort to steal some of the warmth and to make sure the dog didn't wander anywhere while he was asleep; he hadn't put the leash on the dog. The bushy haired girl gave him a look of death as he closed his eyes, yet did nothing to stop him from taking the nap.

Not that she could have really stopped him from doing so in the first place.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ed was ever the cute sleeper: drooling over so slightly, tossing and turning in his seat, and muttering the occasional incoherent sentence. It was hard to look at him the same way after the boy had tricked him. No, no, the word trick didn't give what Ed had done the amount of justice it deserved. Fooled… double-crossed… swindled… scammed… all of them seemed inadequate. One way or another he was going to get revenge on this boy.

The boy had gotten him drunk, given him a bath, and then shaved him. Everywhere except his face. The situation sounded awkward to him, or anyone, no matter how it was put. If he told this to someone without mentioning that he had been a dog at the time it had happened then they would have assumed that there was some freaky, hot gay sex going on.

Not that he was against fucking men. It was just that Ed seemed very heterosexual. Sirius liked to enjoy the best of both worlds. A bit of dark chocolate here, a bit of white chocolate there… men… women… it really didn't matter. When he had been at Hogwarts, there were rumors flying throughout the school that he was fucking Remus. People had a hard time proving it; Remus had always been a bit shy when it came to sex. Never the aggressor, dear little Remus.

To the end, it had always been he making the moves during sex.

Remus had a lot to learn. It made him sad to think that his dear friend now thought that he was… guilty. In a way he was. He had killed all those people, trying to get to Pettigrew… but everyone went the same place when they died. He knew it. He of all people should know it.

_Getting off topic though…_

The night after Ed had shaved him, he had transformed back into a human. Except for the fact that he had a beard, the rest of him was completely hairless, from the top of his head to his legs. James would have had a field day if he had seen him like that. There was only one way to give justice to what had been done to him.

Finish it.

He had shaved off his beard, and for the first time in many years, took time to make himself look… well… more like himself. It was important that he start practicing human acts. He had spent too much time as a dog and now… soon… that would have to change. He couldn't convince Ed as a dog that he was innocent.

Speaking of Ed….

"Izumi… Izumi… Wrath… little fucker…"

The problem was when Ed was asleep he tended to talk, and when he started to talk in his sleep, things he would say started to make sense. The exact opposite of most people. Let him sleep for too long and he would start to scream. Scream out the names of sins. As if sins could be named as people… or people named after specific sins. Either way he looked at it, this boy had a pretty screwed up past. But his mutterings were disturbing the girl across from him.

Hermione, her name was.

Sirius trotted up to her, playing the good dog. He looked at her expectantly, panting loudly, whining in that little doggie whine that he had perfected. She knew what he was after and did exactly what she was supposed to do, and his inner dog said; _now this is what human hands are meant to do, keep on scratching… oh yeah… _

It was then that he noticed the book on animagus transformations. Either this girl was interested in finding out what her inner animal was or she was catching onto him. He hoped it wasn't either. Let her just be interested in the theory of the transformation, not either of the other options…Of course that wasn't the only way a person at Hogwarts could catch on to who he was. But then again, that could be easily dealt with. At least she wasn't looking into anything too serious. No one could find out about that.

The Black secret.

Ah, Grim times.

"Al… Al… Alphonse…" Ed's cries grew desperate and he started fumbling around vaguely in his sleep in an attempt to find him… or Alphonse. The other prefects were staring and whispering to each other, caught between concern and derision. The girl Hermione was watching in silence, her eyes wide and her face pale but carefully blank. She seemed far more disturbed by Ed's nightmares than anyone else in the car.

"Alphonse!" Ed screamed and woke up with a start, clapping his hands together with a flourish.

Clapping his hands together.

That seemed like an odd action in any situation. There was an electrical feeling in the room after Ed had clapped his hands together. It struck Sirius that Ed might not have innate magical abilities. He had spent much of the time in the Black house studying the spells and potions that were needed for school. But the possibility that Ed might have never cast a magic spell in his life… scared him.

Ed was a powerful wizard, and bad things happened to wizards who suppressed their magical abilities. Oh the possibilities. As a former Marauder, Sirius had the keen ability to sense when trouble was going to happen. Explosions galore. Plenty of opportunities for revenge on his part. Ed was going to have to spend copious amounts of time practicing spellwork, even more so than the regular student, since according to Sirius's mental clock, they were due to start learning non-verbal spells.

Upon seeing that he was still the in room and still in tact, Ed pulled out one of the many books he had packed. His transition from nightmare to waking life was abrupt and complete; whatever had happened in his sleeping mind, there was nothing in his actions or demeanor to suggest that moments before, he had been screaming. In a way, it was almost frightening.

Equally frightening was the Ed's capacity for memorization. Somehow the boy had been able to go through and memorize everything he needed to know about potions, herbology, arithmancy, charms, ancient runes, history of magic, and defense against the dark arts. That left few of the other core subjects that he had to go through and learn the incantations at the very least. Only one major one, really: transfiguration. That was the subject that Ed happened to be studying at the very moment.

His face showed a distinct distaste for the subject; while before he had been taking time out to laugh at what some of the spells were meant for, now his expression was dark. "Un-fucking-natural." He muttered, but kept on reading the material.

This did not go beyond the notice of the girl, however, the one who was still scratching behind his ears. "What is unnatural?"

"I have never liked this subject."

"Why are you reading the first year's book?"

"To freshen up my knowledge." The words were said too quickly. Ed was lying about every thing, and he didn't seem very good at it. He had never done magic in his life. Sirius wondered if he should be so kind as to fill him in on it. He probably knew more about Edward Elric than the rest of the world did. If the Order wanted information on him, it might be a good way to buy loyalty, assuming they didn't decide to kill him first.

"I don't see why."

"Even smart people miss things the first time they read books. Textbooks are long and wordy, I can't imagine reading the same text only once and expecting the gather up all the information it has to offer."

"So you read everything twice?" Her voice was annoyed. Probably, she was still wondering how he was able to get into the old 'Black House.' She wanted to know the details behind the spells and how they were configured at the moment. _Only for me and my guests, darling, so you aren't to far from the truth. _

"Not usually. Too time consuming. Only when I have the pleasure of time on my hands and it seems to be the case in this situation."

It was pointless to pay attention to the conversation much beyond that. He was in dog form and there was no use in trying to act like a human while trying to act like a dog. He relaxed and let the ear scratching go on… even let himself drift into sleep after a period of time. It would be nice to see the sorting again after all this time. It would be nice to finally see the thestrels for the right reasons.

He had never been blind to them.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

If there was one subject that was going to get on Ed's nerves it was going to be transfiguration, for good reason admittedly. He was going to have to hide his distaste for the subject and hide it well. If Hermione was able to catch onto his dislike of transfiguration than everyone else, including the teacher, would be able to do so as well. That was not the sort of impression that he wanted to give off while he was at school.

The books were still ridiculously easy.

The nap that he had gotten on the train ride had only been about an hour and a half, which left plenty of time for textbook reading. Considering how easy all the other textbooks were, this was nothing. Remembering the spells would be nothing, since they all had some rhyme and reason to them all. The words matched what the caster wanted done.

It was the applied theory that he was worried about. His first time casting a spell shouldn't be too much worst then his first time with applied alchemy. He would just need a quiet place to practice before he went to class… damn teacher hadn't bothered to send a time-table with the letter and so he had no idea as to when his deadline was. It was quite like being given a pop-quiz.

He would ask Severus when the time tables were being given out. Maybe even get some advice on how to go about doing the applied spell-work. That man was feeding information about him to Voldemort and he knew it. Yet… Severus was the only person Ed could find to be… reliable. His services were out on loan to whatever person would bring him satisfaction in the end. Much like a mercenary.

Ah, bribery.

But the question was, what was the price of the service… and what did he want from Severus in return? He would have to think about it. He didn't mind the fact getting out to Voldemort, that he was bad at spellwork. It didn't matter right now if he was bad or good. He would improve with time, about a month or two should do it. He just didn't want the rest of his classmates to know that he was a bit behind par.

Being with people his own age bothered him. He would much rather be at home with Alphonse… his dog or his brother… or with Severus, or with… It didn't matter. He would adjust to the whole being around peers.

But the conversations that were going on around him… these people were supposed to be the prefects, the shining stars of the school, the responsible ones, and they were just wasting their time away with idle gossip - all with the exception of that one girl, Hermione. She was scratching Al's ears while glancing idly at a book.

"How long is it until we get to Hogwarts?"  
"The train won't get there until well past dark."

"Neh." He said.

"Why?"

"I just want to know how much time I have to read." He paused for a moment and then added, "I think I can at least get two more books done before the train reaches Hogwarts.

"You can't spend all of the time in the car reading."

"There is more to life than that… I know. Maes told me that many times… dragged me away from my studying on my birthday once. But right now, what else is there to do?"

He had her there. She had friends that she could go and visit, but strangely, she didn't seem to want to talk to them. Before, she had been strangely blunt to the red-haired kid, Ron… and had ignored Harry altogether. Something was happening between them, a fight of some kind. But it seemed rude to ask her about it, because after all he didn't even really know the girl or her friends that well.

So it was best to sit there, read, and occasionally exchange small talk. Oh, it was a slight priority to make sure that his rather bipolar dog didn't attack anyone. But there was little chance of that happening, since Al seemed rather content. The train car was mostly clear, except for the Head boy and girl. The other people seemed to have abandoned the car in favor of going and socializing with their peers.

So he finished the first year's transfiguration text…

Then the second year's…

Then was three fourths of the way through the third year's, which was surprisingly similar to the other two, when the train finally stopped.

"We're there…" the girl stated in passing, as a way to make him put down the book and get ready to go to Hogwarts. "You leave your trunk here; it will be taken to Hogwarts by…" slight pause, "some of the staff. It will be at the foot of your bed by the end of the feast. Guaranteed."

"Let me guess, house-elves."

"Unfortunately. You know…"

"If you are going to ask me to get rid of Kreacher then let me ask you this: where in the world is that elf going to go? He seems to like it there and I am not going to force him to leave. He isn't even really my house elf after all.eHe He He " He dug the leash out of his pocket and attached it to the dog's collar. Al growled in annoyance at the sudden presence of the leash and Ed made a silent promise that once they were in the castle he would let the dog off the of the leash. In the meanwhile, he palmed the dog a biscuit in order to prevent a ruckus. There were about ten in his pocket… should last him until they reached the castle.

"Valid point." Was it his imagination, or had his little rant about Kreacher slightly improved her attitude toward him?

"So, are we going to meet up with your friends or what? Or am I to assume that once we reach the school we no longer socialize." He said, raising his voice a little so she could hear him over the crowd of people. There was complete and other commotion. The older students, not including him and Hermione, seemed to be headed towards some carriages, while the younger students, the first years, seemed to be heading towards…

A giant. A giant. Fuck. That must be Hagrid. That man that Flamel had told him about. _No wonder he said that we probably wouldn't get along. Damn it! Why can't I just be a little taller!_

"Now why would you say that?" He followed her through the crowd of people. Somehow, she was able to pick out where her friends were going to be. Along with Harry and Ron, there were two other people, a gangly looking boy and a girl with long blonde hair and very odd fashion sense. Were those radishes dangling from her ears? "Ed, this is Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood," Hermione said without missing a beat.

"Nice to meet you both," He said.

"Did you read the latest issue of the Quibbler?" the girl named Luna asked. Her voice was quiet and distant. "There is a very interesting article there – theories of the Grim and Snorkack? I helped co-write it…" She looked at him and must have seen the blankness on his face, because she continued "The Crumple-horned Snorkack. Haven't you ever heard of it?"

"Luna… I am sure that he does not care about the…" Harry started.

"Actually, I am very interested in the details of the…" Ed stopped when they got to the carriages. They were being pulled by ghostly looking skeletal horses.

"Fucking unnatural," he muttered as he got into the carriage. He had no desire to sit around and wonder what the animal was.

"You can see the thestrel?" Neville asked.

"I don't see why not."

"Because they can only be seen by…" Neville started, then trailed off. "Never mind."

"So," Ed said, doing his best to fill the moment of awkward silence, "back to the subject of the Crumple-horned Snorkack…"

"Why don't you want to tell anyone anything about yourself!" Harry burst out.

"Why in the world should I tell you if I can see a fucking horse or not? Because I honestly see no reason why I should. It is my business and my business alone," he snapped. If he was too open with his past life then they would accuse of being allied with Voldemort. If he was too closed with his past life then they would accuse him of being with Voldemort. If he said anything about himself then he was allied with Voldemort. Information was information after all. It was better to give away nothing rather than something. "Now, Luna, please tell me about Snorkacks, I don't think that I have studied magical creatures to the extent that I should have."

"You don't have to be so secretive," Harry muttered in an obvious way.

"So, Harry how is your mother?" Ed said pointedly. "Where's your father? Are you an orphan?" Special emphasis on the word orphan, since it was perfectly obvious that he was by the way that he constantly complained about having to live with his aunt and uncle. At least he had family to go to. At least he didn't have to mooch off of the next door neighbor in order to survive.

"Ed! Harry! I think that is enough! Will you all please act your age, and Ed, that is not appropriate behavior for a prefect." Hermione yelled. "Now, I think that it is Luna's turn to talk."

Luna started in on the lecture about Snorkacks, and Ed carefully noted the information about the elusive creature. People like her knew a lot about what was really going on. If someone had told him upon his entrance to the military that it was being controlled by Homunculi, he wouldn't have believed them. It was likely that in this world the craziest theories were also probably true. Luna was a person that he was going to want to get to know. Very well. She probably knew more than people gave her credit for.

But… that wasn't the only thing that he noted. He noted Harry and Ron's constant stares. As if mildly staring at him could intimidate him. He didn't care. He started to scratch behind Al's ears and palmed him another treat. They were just children after all and he wouldn't be staying in this world for to long anyways. Just long enough to get back to Alphonse.

"They sound like very interesting creatures Luna."

"They don't exist." Ed thanked the stars that the carriage had finally arrived at Hogwarts. He gripped Al's leash tightly and started to carefully formulate his answer. He couldn't be to blunt with the children.

"It surprises me that you can believe in fairies and unicorns but not Snorkacks. Luna has far more sense than you do. Trust me, they exist." With that he headed towards the doors of Hogwarts, eager to get away from Harry and Ron. Specifically. Neville didn't seem like that bad of a guy. Ed could see himself getting along with Neville very well. Luna seemed like a pretty interesting person as well.

The type that would know stuff that he needed to know.

Once inside the castle, Ed could see that Snape was waiting for him, not so very patiently. "Come you need to go with the first years. You have to be sorted."

"Where's rat-man?" He asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Who?" Severus played dumb at the mention of the rat-man. It was easy to catch onto the game: it was not to be talked about right now. Or rather he was not to be talked about at this particular time. Not that the rat-man was meant to be the general focus of the conversation.

"Never mind, how long is the sorting thing going take?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I want to get some reading done. I still have to catch up on the material for transfiguration class. Dumbledore didn't bother to send me a list of when my classes would occur."

"You get the list tomorrow actually. At breakfast. Though technically you are going to have to choose your classes," He added in. There would be a need to talk to Severus tonight then, to see what he had said about his academic record.

"Just tell me," he said as they stopped outside of the two doors.

"See me in my office after the feast Elric." Severus snapped as he flung open the doors and walked towards the head table, black robe billowing behind him.

Ed assumed that he was to stay there with the first years; and he was correct in his decision. The first years were not quite sure what to do, as was he, but soon enough another lady (that bore a creepy resemblance to Old Lady Pinako) came and escorted them into the Great Hall. Not that they really needed directions, though apparently an invitation from the faculty was required in order to enter the first time.

Sorting. It was an actually very simple process, as the Headmaster so kindly explained. Apparently, the old lady that kind of looked like Pinako was supposed to explain the process to them before they got into the great hall. This little process had been (ever so dramatically) interrupted by Severus. Everyone in the hall seemed to be looking forward to the sorting. Ed didn't see why, the whole process was rather boring. They put a hat on the kids head and then at one point the hat would call out a name of one of the four houses.

It was the dynamics of the hat that interested him the most. It couldn't be just a plain hat; it had to be a soul attachment of some sort. Though why anyone would want to attach a soul to a hat was beyond him… although it did serve some slightly useful purpose. There had to be a better way than that to assign students to different houses… soul attachments should not be used in such a frivolous manner, as was the norm here.

Everything about this just seemed wrong. The kids were only eleven and were being sorted into houses by a hat. The houses were supposed to tell the outside would… the person… something about themselves. It was like their lives were being decided for them. It seemed rather unfair to him. They were just kids… how were they supposed to know who they were at this age? Once you were sorted into a house, it didn't seem like it could be undone. So therefore, it was implied that a person could not change. Once sorted the traits of the house were the traits of your soul… that was who you were and nothing could change that.

People could change. He knew that people could change.

Change.

He was, apparently, to be sorted last, since of course there always needed to be an explanation for him. "This is Edward Elric, he will be joining our school for the remainder of his magical education." Magical education, the fact that this was meant to be taken literally was both scary and funny in the same sense. He wondered if they all realized how ridiculous they were all being?

He stepped up and took the hat and put it on his head, ready for the whole process to be over. It was at that moment, by all the luck that his life was ruled by that the bird, that damn bird that he had sent to Flamel's house in an effort to be rid of it came through the ceiling flew down gracefully and landed at his feet. Letter clutched in-between its beak.

Ignoring the bird, he put on the hat, hoping that the process would be quick. Inside his head he could hear a voice, _now what do we have here? An illegal alchemist!_

_What the fuck! _A voice talking in his head: this could only mean two things. One, he was going crazy or two, this was supposed to happen. If you used the logic of this world, it seemed perfectly normal

_You like lying and I must say that you are good at it._

_Just sort me and be done with it. I have other things to do. _He thought it with the confidence that he wasn't going crazy.

_Like practice magic? _The point was exceptionally valid. The only thing that he had really practiced were potions and those he seemed to excel at. Only because the concept was similar to what he already knew from his studies in alchemy.

_Fuck off. I know what you are and I know how to unmake you. Just get rid of the blood-seal and you're toast._

_Point taken. Which house do you want to be in?_

_Oh, so you give everyone a choice? _He taunted.

_No, not really. Sometimes it is just clear to me where they will do well in. You are unique, you would do well in just about every one of the houses. Some of them you would be happier in then others, but happiness is second to achievement. Although one must be happy in order to achieve great things. _

_Put me in Severus's house then. _

_I would, but… as much as you seem to get along with him, I don't think that it would be the best house for you. There is more to you than ambition._

_Ambition? That is all I am right now. What more could drive me than ambition? Everything about me ties into that ambition. You talk about ambition as if it is a bad thing._

_It is the worst thing that a person can have. Nobility is far better. Bravery._

_Those are only second to ambition. Ambition is what fuels a person deep down. Bravery… nobility… those are good only if you have two other things. Wit and Cunning. _

"Well if you value those three traits above all," the hat said aloud, "then you deserve to be in Slytherin."

Looking over at the Gryffindor table, he noticed Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione. At the Ravenclaw table he noticed Luna. With her. With Severus, but why with them? Hermione and Neville were probably the only tolerable people in the entire house.

And the bird was still sitting in front of him.

He took off the hat and put it back on the chair; he caught sight of the Dumbledore's face. It had taken on much of the same look that Remus's had when he had seen the dog for the first time. Greenish, peaky, as if he was about to throw up; and his eyes were fixated on his bird. That damn bird. And he didn't even know why he didn't really like the bird either. _Apparently they had been expecting him to be in Gryffindor. _

The bird dropped the letter at his feet and a swift kick in the bird's direction sent it flying off. Not to far away, the bird settled on the Gryffindor table, next to Harry. _Well, don't we have a wonderful couple here, _he thought as he picked up the letter and crumpled it up. There wasn't that much of a need to read it anyways. Walking past the Gryffindor table he smiled.

But he didn't feel like sitting with the rest of his fellow housemates. There was some type of odd conformity about them. They were all rich kids and, well, he was different. He had grown up in near poverty. He was going to sit with the Ravenclaw's. There was no law saying that he couldn't sit with them.

"I was worried that there wouldn't be any pudding at the feast." Luna said offhandedly and then added, "I like your dog."

"Oh thank you." He said as he passed two dog treats and a piece of bread to the dog. "It started to follow me one day."

"It reminds me a lot of the Grim."

"The what?"

"The Grim. A giant spectral dog that symbolizes death. Trelawny will say that you have the Grim following you. If she sees you, I don't imagine that you would be the type to take divination."

"I highly doubt that I am going to die anytime soon." He took care to leave out the word again.

She handed him a copy of the newspaper that she had been reading earlier, The Quibbler. On the cover was a picture of a man, apparently, casting a spell and another of a family tree. One for the Black house. "You should read the article. My father thinks that the Grim is the key to finding the Crumple-horned Snorkack."

Grim.

It was all grim.

Al hid under the table and whined for food. The teachers had to stay at the feast until the very end; as did the prefects. Technically he was still a prefect of the Gryffindor house since there were already two prefects for the Slytherin house. Despite the odd sorting, no moves were being made to correct the mistake and reinstate Ron Weasley as a prefect. This was going to be interesting, he was going to be a Slytherin who was a Gryffindor prefect.

Hermione walked up to the head table where Snape a Dumbledore were conversing. With all the racket in the hall, Ed couldn't hear what the conversation was all about but he could guess easily enough. With a few nods and shakes of the heads it was decided. Hermione turned heal and headed towards him.

"Perhaps she didn't like the pudding?" Luna commented.

"I don't see why she wouldn't like the pudding. So, a crumple horn is a horn the is curled right?"

"Ed," Hermione said, "You are still going to be a Gryffindor prefect."

"Why? I'm not even is Gryffindor."

"It is the decision of Dumbledore…" What was so bad about favoring ambition? Wit? Cunning? He could see that she had lost some of the trust that she had in him…if she had any in the first place.

"So what? Being in Slytherin makes me an evil person?"

"Hermione," Luna said, calmly, "I don't think that you have that much to fear. Slytherins aren't all bad. My Aunt was a Slytherin and she was a perfectly sane person. Do you want to know about my Aunt? She discovered the most fascinating things."

"I don't think that I have time right now." Luna looked kind of surprised to hear this. "Ed we have to lead the first years to the dormitories."

His first official duty as prefect, lead all the students to the dormitory. Taking to the lead with Hermione, he pretended to lead the students along with her. It was decidedly odd that he would be chosen to be a prefect, since he had never gone to the school, he thought to himself. Severus must have some plans for him… more influence in the Gryffindor house perhaps?

Severus was going to have to come and show him where the Slytherin dormitories were. It was all a matter of waiting for him. He sat in the Gryffindor common room, waiting. There was a sense of time being wasted and a slight regret that he didn't bring one of the textbooks with him in order to get some more studying done.

"So what are you doing out here?"

"If I told you I was researching unbreakable vows would you go running?" He said sarcastically.

An excited look spread across her face after he said that, "So you'll tell me?"

"Now you seem oddly excited about this. This makes me slightly worried." She sat down next to him, as if expecting him to explain to her how the unbreakable vow was supposed to go. Then perform it right on the spot. "I am waiting for Severus, in all honesty. He said that he wanted to talk to me tonight and I do need to get to the Slytherin dormitories before long."

"So late though…"

"Since he is the defense against the dark arts teacher, I will ask him about unbreakable vows."

"Please don't ask him…"

"Why not?"

She didn't get the chance to answer. At that moment, Severus made his way through the portrait hole and stood at the entrance, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for Ed. So he wouldn't get to know why he shouldn't ask Severus, just as well he thought to himself.

"Severus." He said as a way of greeting.

"Miss. Granger should go to bed." Ed got up and headed towards the doorway, dog at his heels, not bothering to look back at what Hermione was doing. The part of his mind that had been permanently perverted by Mustang told him that to the average person, it would look like him and Severus were having some sort of odd love affair. Of course, that would just be Mustangs opinion… but then again, he was the only one that seemed to be called Severus by his first name.

Odd.

"I hope you can pull fucking all-nighters Elric because we are going to have a lot of work to do."

"You sound oddly cheery about this."

"Oh yes, I have Potter tomorrow and I want to be nice and cheery for him."

_Oh goody. _

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Grim.

Her mother.

The Grim.

Black.

Noble. Ancient. Affinity.

Hadn't she seen that dog before?

Grim.

Didn't the Grim have a human form?

Mother…

Aunt… she said… promised… so it had to be…

Non-verbal.

Yes, I know the ending is cryptic, but if you really think, you can figure out who it is.

Please review.


	10. Chapter 10

Half Pain 10

Chapter 10 – A little drop of time

Disclaimer – I don't own anything. I am not profiting from this.

Hi there y'all! I am sorry about the late update and I hope that it was well worth the wait. The next chapter should be along shortly. As always, me and Lord Regals Bane love reviews, so please review. Don't be shy, we love constructive criticism.

Hermione walked alone through the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, not in deep enough to be in any danger but nearing the border of the school grounds. It was nice to be outside for once, and alone. It felt like late summer still. The leaves had begun to turn, and though the northern air was cooler it did not yet have autumn's bite. Still, she could feel the changes gathering in the air, a sense of potential like the change in pressure before a storm.

Her contact with the Order had mostly ended since she started school, and in truth it was a relief to leave that responsibility behind and try to be an ordinary student again, though she hated being cut off from information. But her lack of communication with the Order didn't mean she couldn't spend her time researching and practicing curses and countercurses, or studying defense against the dark arts. Harry and Ron both thought she was mad, but she was beginning to wish that Snape had instructed that particular class from the beginning. He was as strict there as he had been during his potions lessons, and as arbitrarily cruel, but what he taught was useful and he didn't shy away from pointing students in the direction of further research.

But research took time, and lately there didn't seem to be enough of that to go around. It was only a few weeks since the start of the term, and already teachers were beginning to pile on the homework. The only time that had been a problem before was her third year, all that trouble with the Ministry. Usually she enjoyed keeping busy, and had little trouble keeping up with the workload. But now she had other things to worry about. And then there was her apprenticeship with Crane to consider, and that was already taking up far too much of her time.

She had been almost surprised to realize that the man viewed the apprenticeship as not only binding but serious, treating her as a real student and not simply some tool he could make use of. Her learning was limited by the fact that she could only contact him through the mail, but the things he set her to researching were varied and occasionally surprising. Not all seemed to relate directly to sorcery – most notably, his insistence that she memorize the material components of common substances like steel or water, and how they interacted chemically, which she had always seen as more of a muggle science than magic. She remembered the necessity of such knowledge from her dreams about alchemy, and hoped he was setting her up for training in that area as well.

She was excited at the prospect of learning the Lost Art, but at the moment it was slow work, full of drudgery with little immediate reward. Crane was irritated that she hadn't been taught earlier – "This is a foundation that should have been laid in childhood, when learning is easiest and most permanent," he had written. "I know of no sorcerer who has begun so late in life. It will not be easy for you, and my suggestion is that you concentrate for the moment on sorcery, and your research into the dark arts. Although that too, of course, should have been taught earlier."

And when it came to sorcery, he was starting her on a similarly basic level, the sort of lessons he said should have been given to a five year old: focus, meditate, be aware of the self and the surroundings. She was to become aware of her own mind and body first, her existence as a physical being. Then she was to concentrate on her place in relation to the world at large, how her presence altered it through thought and action. Wand magic put a step between the wizard and the world, making magic both simpler and less powerful. It could be regulated, limits could be imposed. Sorcery was magic without limits, except those inherent in the laws of the world and the power of the sorcerer.

The primary law, of course, was that of conservation. Of everything. You couldn't get something from nothing, no matter how many rules you tried to bend. Sorcery was about manipulating and transforming the energy that already existed, the potential locked up in the physical world that could be released through an effort of will. But first, according to Erik Crane, the world itself had to be understood.

It all seemed a little mystical to her, and Hermione didn't trust mysticism at in the least. Being in touch with her body wasn't something she was comfortable with, either; she had spent the past several years trying to distance herself from it and its frailties, and to her, magic had been a part of that. Now her teacher was telling her that she wouldn't get anywhere with magic until she realized that _it_ was also _her_.

Not to mention, all that focus and meditation was easier when you didn't have a dozen books to read weekly, at least half of which were recommended to you by the very man who was trying to teach you to be calm and self aware. So she concentrated on her regular classes, on memorization and research, the things she understood. Awareness, she hoped, would take care of itself. And it didn't, at the very least she could still learn.

Nevertheless, as she walked, she tried to obey Crane's directive, making herself aware of all the senses and sensations she usually tuned out: the breeze across her skin and hair, the sound of leaves rustling, birds calling, twigs snapping underfoot. But it wasn't easy. Her mind kept trying to slip away from the moment and into abstract thoughts, formless worries. She had never realized how practiced she was at distracting herself, until she tried to break herself of that habit. And either way, meditation wasn't the only reason she was out here. Sometimes you just had to be by yourself.

Or, if not by yourself, at least away from human company. There were times when Hermione understood Hagrid's obsession with magical beasts, or Ed's irrational love for that dog. Animals didn't judge, or ask questions, or resent you for things that weren't your fault. They were just there. And if you were kind to them, they would be loyal, simple as that. It was a pity humans were seldom so simple.

And so she was going to visit the thestrals.

She encountered the spectral horses in one of their favorite haunts, a glade not far from Hagrid's cabin. They meandered around, stretching their wings and arching their necks, seemingly unconcerned with her presence. Thestrals weren't like hippogriffs -- they didn't attack unless provoked. Despite their taste for meat, they were herd animals, and friendly to anyone in their herd, which these particular thestrals took to include all the human inhabitants of Hogwarts.

Hermione could see the them more clearly now than she had been able to during that assault on the ministry. They no longer flickered into and out of sight in front of her, but they were still ghostly and blurred around the edges, undefined. It hurt to look at them. She wished she could see them more clearly, then shook her head as she recalled what that would mean. What a thing to wish for. She didn't doubt she would see death enough in person before this war was over, but that didn't mean she ought to be eager for it.

"You can see them now." Quiet and distinct words, spoken from somewhere behind her. Luna.

Hermione looked back and saw the girl standing at the edge of the clearing, her head tilted and her hands in the pockets of her robe, long hair blowing freely in the wind. She was wearing typical Luna garb: hiking boots, the radish earrings and that butterbeer cork necklace, a long, loose knit scarf. The colors of were odd, shades of green and blue and brown and pale silver, but somehow everything seemed to fit together. Somehow, that was always the case with Luna.

"Yes," Hermione said softly. "I can see them. But not clearly. They're still kind of... fuzzy, I suppose."

"Oh." Luna frowned, biting her lower lip, and picked a few dead leaved out of her hair. After a while, she said, "You know, I've never heard of that happening."

"Neither have I. It doesn't really make sense, does it? "

Luna just shrugged.

"I mean," Hermione said, "you've either seen death or you haven't, right?"

"Oh, I don't know," Luna said. "I think it may be a bit more complex than that. Most things are, if you really look at them." She sat down in the fallen leaves beneath a tree, and beckoned Hermione to sit down beside her. "It's just that most people don't. Look closely, I mean."

Hermione still wasn't sure what she thought of Luna. The girl's willingness to believe in any stupid theory had annoyed her, at first. An open mind was a good thing, but Luna's mind was open enough to let bats fly in and out of her ears. But there was more to her than nonsense. Luna noticed things that most people didn't, and she was very smart. Perhaps the closest thing Hermione had ever seen to a true genius, eccentricities and all.

That certainly wasn't to say her bizarre theories had any chance of being true, or that Hermione particularly wanted to listen to them. Nevertheless, she sat down and folded her arms across her knees, preparing to listen. That was what you did for friends -- you listened to them, and you didn't judge.

"If you want to know what I think," Luna said, "they're creatures of the Veil. Only half here. That's why you can't see them until you've been close to the veil yourself."

"Really?" She tried not to sound skeptical. _Creatures of the Veil?_

"Oh, yes. I imagine they can travel through the Veil, if they choose. To other worlds. Just like the Grim."

The Grim... Hermione hadn't heard that word in a long time. It took her a while to remember why it seemed so important -- third year. The year when things had started to go wrong. She remembered Harry's insistence that a dog had been stalking him, years ago, and Ron's certainty that the thing had been the Grim. Silly myth, really. Most wizards these days -- most sensible wizards, which most definitely didn't include a certain Ronald Weasley -- dismissed it as a superstition. But then again, when had Luna ever dismissed anything as a superstition? Declaring something didn't exist was the quickest way to get her to profess her belief in it.

But traveling to other worlds wasn't any part of the Grim legend she had ever heard. And didn't the Veil just lead to death?

"Other worlds?"

"That's what my aunt says."

"Your aunt?" Luna never really talked about her family. In spite of herself, Hermione found herself curious. Wizarding households were always interesting to hear about, and other people's families had always held for her a strange and slightly envious fascination. She always wanted to know more.

"Oh, yes. My aunt. She was very interested in the Veil, and the theory of the Grim."

"Was -- " Hermione said, before she could stop herself. _Oops._

"Was. She's been dead since I was small." Luna peered up at her from beneath a curtain of wispy hair, her voice disturbingly calm. She was idly twisting a long blade of grass around her fingers, staring at the forest floor. Hermione felt vaguely embarrassed for bringing the subject up.

"Oh. I'm... sorry."

"Yes. I'm sorry too. They said she wasn't natural." Beneath the vagueness, Luna seemed angry. It was an emotion Hermione had never seen in her before, not even when the other students of her year had teased or excluded her, and it was slightly unsettling to see it now.

"She never hurt anyone," Luna continued. "She was just. Unusual. Only... I don't even think they cared about that. Much. It was just that she studied things they didn't like."

"You mean like the Grim?"

"Exactly." Luna's eyes gleamed. This was getting interesting.

"Tell me."

"I thought you didn't believe..."

"I _don't_." Too strong an emphasis there. She sounded defensive, even to herself.

"Then why?"

"I... I don't know. I've been thinking about dogs a lot, though, lately. And you believe in it. So tell me."

"The Grim isn't a dog." Luna's tone was that of a patient teacher explaining something simple to a rather dense First Year. "Or not just a dog, anyway. It's a guardian."

"A guardian?" _I thought it was supposed to kill people_.

The wind was picking up now, whistling through the branches with gathering force. Definitely a storm on the way. She ought to head back to the castle before things got nasty. But this was too interesting to give up now. She felt that old excitement in the pit of her stomach, the sharp thrill that came from being on the right track and knowing it. Luna knew something, she was suddenly certain of it. Luna knew something _important_.

"Let me tell you the story... Once upon a time," Luna said, "in the days when the world was very much younger than it is now, there lived a boy named Rosie and a girl named Theodore."

Hermione frowned, uncertain if she had heard correctly. "A boy named Rosie?"

_And Theodore. What?_

An image of Theodore Nott looking uncomfortable in a dress flashed through her mind, and she stifled a laugh.

"Yes, Rosie and Theodore. It's a beautiful love story."

"And what does that have to do with -- "

"I'll get to that. They were under a curse, you see. A terrible, terrible curse, placed on them by... hmm, I believe it was the Minister of Magic's intelligent pet goose, this time. Geese are very dangerous creatures. You can't trust them at all."

"A curse?" Hermione prompted, trying not to let her disappointment show. This was going to be... _interesting_, certainly, but not particularly informative. She should have known better than to imagine Luna would know anything of note; the girl had sounded so serious, and now it was Rosie and Theodore and evil geese.

But did everything in this world have to be serious? Couldn't there be time for stories, too?

"Yes, a curse. Rosie couldn't fight, you understand, and Theodore was completely unable to clean."

"Such a tragedy," Hermione murmured, sensing that now was not the time for a critical analysis of gender roles and stereotypes in wizarding literature. She would save that one for an essay. History of Magic, perhaps.

"A great tragedy," Luna said. "They tried many ways to break the curse... potions and countercurses, magical remedies, wishing rings... nothing worked. They searched through the wizarding world's most ancient manuscripts and found no hint of what to do. So they summoned a demon to ask for advice."

"That's never a good idea."

"Indeed not." Luna nodded sagely. "This demon had snake eyes and a sly smile, and he told them that he had the power to life the curse, but he would not do it for free. If Rosie and Theodore could travel to the kingdom of Death, and steal a certain book from Death's library, he would help them."

Hermione leaned back against the trunk of the tree and closed her eyes, letting Luna's rambling narrative flow over her. There were evil elves involved -- not House Elves, it seemed, but an altogether nastier variety -- and aliens, and ghosts, and a brief but fortuitous encounter with the King of the Crumple-horned Snorckacks. And then at last the two adventurers made it into Death's demesne, through a pair of high black iron gates -- the recognition of the image from her dreams was not pleasant, though she told herself it meant nothing -- and from there into a library filled with numberless books on shelves reaching up out of sight. After some searching, Theodore discovered the book they were after, a book of prophecy by a witch whose name she had never heard. She pulled it down from the shelf, and the two of them prepared to make their escape.

"And?" Hermione asked, caught up in the tale in spite of herself. She had hated fiction for years, fairy tales especially, and she couldn't remember the last time she had wanted to know what happened next, how the tale ended.

"They were caught, of course," Luna whispered. "You can't fool Death, not in his own home. And Death was angry. It is a great transgression for a mortal to venture across the Veil of their own accord, and much worse to fiddle with what you find there. It was decided that it would be a fitting punishment for Rosie and Theodore to keep watch for the rest of eternity, guarding the boundary between life and death from both the living and the dead."

"That isn't fair."

"That's what they said, too. They argued their case, but the only point they could get Death to concede was that they were mortal and their purpose was to die. They would be allowed to age and die, but only on the condition that one of them would have, to whom the duty would pass."

"What about the curse?"

"Death lifted it for them, I believe. It was the least he could do. He's really not a bad entity, I hear, when you get to know him."

"So, they spent a lot of time cleaning and fighting, then?"

"Not really. Once they knew they could, they just got on with their lives. That was the important thing."

"Seems a little pointless to me," Hermione said. "But the Grim is..."

"The guardian of the Veil. The child of Rosie and Theodore was the first Grim, and the power passes down the generations. I could show you a genealogy, if you like." Luna rifled through her bookbag and pulled out a battered copy of the Quibbler. "It's all in here."

"That's... quite all right," Hermione said. "But I thought the Grim was supposed to be a -- you know, a ghostly dog. Not a person."

Luna looked at Hermione as if she didn't quite understand the objection.

"Well, yes. That too. That mostly, actually. Here, take this, I have more. It explains everything." Luna shoved her copy of the Quibbler into Hermione's hands. Hermione held the magazine awkwardly, not wanting to be rude by giving it back, then finally folded it up and packed it into her bookbag as she had done with religious pamphlets and advertisements in the muggle world, not really intending to read it later.

She walked back to the castle with Luna, the wind whirling leaves and branches around them, an impervius charm keeping off the rain. The sky had darkened, both from clouds and the fall of evening, and it was getting cold. Neither of them spoke. A strange quiet had fallen over both of them, a sense of unease. Luna's story had seemed patched together, like a lighthearted fable had been mixed somewhat inexpertly with something older and darker. Hermione wanted to ask where the girl had learned it -- from her mysterious aunt, no doubt -- but the girl seemed lost somewhere inside her own mind, and Hermione herself wasn't sure she was in the mood to talk. Her thoughts kept returning to the Veil, that curtain they had seen hidden away in the Department of Mysteries. That thing.

_It shouldn't be there,_ she thought. _It's like a wound. It means there's something broken in the world..._

And: _I wonder where it leads to? What's on the other side?_

She wasn't even certain if they were her thoughts or not. But they wouldn't leave her alone. Instead of the strange boy's life, that night she dreamed again of death. She dreamed of falling through the Veil, of stepping up to it's edge and touching that fine, shimmering curtain, of stepping through the empty frame. And she dreamed of heavy black doors, huge and ponderous, slowly swinging open. She didn't want to know what was behind them.

The next morning wasn't any easier. She woke later than she should have and still tired, threw on her school robes, dragged an enchanted comb through hair that _still_ refused to behave, and forced a few more books into her bag than it should really have been capable of holding. The Gryffindor common room was practically empty; Harry and Ron had left without her. Hurrying down the moving stairways, making her way through crowded corridors to the great hall, she was struck by how little Hogwarts had changed. The world outside the school was preparing for war. She had heard from both Tonks and Crane that several Wizarding villages and households had been attacked -- by Dementors, Death Eaters, werewolves, inferi -- and that wasn't even counting the people who just disappeared. But Hogwarts was still a school, and if any of the students cared about anything beyond passing their next exam, they didn't show it.

It was a haven of denial, and she felt the temptation to fall into it herself. Too many things were on her mind, lately. The Ministry, the Order, sorcery and alchemy. Harry. Peter Pettigrew's letters, and the doubts she felt whenever she thought of that man. None of it was pleasant; it would be so much easier just to be a student, join her friends in enjoying life while she still could.

And then there was the matter of Elric. It was a matter more complex than she had imagined at first. She wanted to understand the boy and take advantage of his knowledge. If she was very honest with herself, she wanted to befriend him and know she had his respect. This should not have been a difficult thing – dealing with people had never been easy for her, but he seemed to like her well enough. But then he had to go and get sorted into Slytherin.

_It doesn't matter_, se told herself. It shouldn't matter. There was no rational reason why it would.

But it did. It mattered to her that he should associate so freely with snobs and bigots, and it mattered to the others more. Harry and Ron took that as proof of what they had wanted to believe all along – that Ed was evil. They wanted nothing to do with him. And they wanted her to have nothing to do with him -- not that it was anyone's business who she cared to associate with.

Still, it wasn't easy to catch up with Ed once school began -- there was little interaction in classes, free time was spent with Harry and Ron, mostly, and her duties as a prefect mostly just left her busy. They might nod to each other briefly while doing rounds at night, or other prefect business, but seldom stopped to say even a few words. So when she caught sight of a short boy with a blond braid sitting at the Slytherin table eating his breakfast, all dressed up in pureblood regalia -- _barely recognizable_, she thought with disgust; _he'd better not have bought in to that rubbish_ -- she decided it was time to set things straight.

She threaded her way through the crowd, trying to ignore the suspicious eyes peering at her from the Slytherin table. She didn't belong there, she knew. Well, what did she care about a bunch of sullen inbred rich kids, anyway? Ed was sitting between two Slytherin boys -- Theodore Nott, that Death Eater's son, pale and gangly, and Blaise Zabini, dark, skinny and fastidious as only a pureblood heir could be. Both of them towered over Ed, though she didn't imagine it would be wise to draw attention to the fact. He seemed friendly enough with both of them. He was fitting in. Edward Elric was definitely a part of Slytherin house.

_Well, what's the worst that could happen..._

"Ed," she said. "Hi."

He twisted around in his chair and looked up at her flatly, and Zabini and Nott followed suit, reminiscent of Crabbe and Goyle or, she supposed, herself and Ron.

"Hi," he said.

"I've been meaning to talk to you"

"Really? Because it seems to me that you've been avoiding me."

"Not really. Its just that... I've had a lot of things to do lately." And most of those things, if she had to admit it to herself, were a bit easier than dealing with the prospect of Ed.

"Well. Me too, I suppose." He leaned across the back of his chair, holding a mug of dark tea in his gloved hands. "So... what brings you away from your busy life?"

"I just wanted to see what you were doing lately. If everything was going well for you..."

"Taking a bit of time to be sociable?"

"Is that a crime now?"

"Hardly." Ed smirked. "I'm flattered you care."

She sighed. "Well, if you're going to be a jerk about it..."

"I'm not. Really. I'm just surprised you had the guts to talk to the big bad Slytherin prefect," he said, but his voice was friendlier now that he seemed to realize she meant what she said.

"Bastard," she said, but she said it good-naturedly, no offense taken or intended.

"Known for it," Ed replied.

Someone laughed, and Ed turned to glare at them. People were watching, and by this point even he had noticed that most of the conversation at the table had stopped, the better to focus on events unfolding. Predictably, it seemed to piss him off.

"Look, I don't want to sit here blabbing like an idiot," he said, "especially when I seem to be surrounded by people who can't mind their own business. I'm guessing neither do you."

"Not really, I suppose."

"Then let's go for a walk." Ed pushed back from the table and stood up, and Nott and Zabini stood with him. A show of solidarity, or simple curiosity? She looked at them nervously. She didn't want to tell Ed to make them stay, at least partly because she was certain he wouldn't. So. Fraternizing with the enemy, then. She could live with that.

"Come on."

She fell into step beside him, ignoring the looks from those who had noticed Hermione Granger and a group of Slytherins going for a casual stroll. She would be hearing no end to this from Harry and Ron later, but thankfully they had the grace not to intervene now. Perhaps they imagined she had some purpose here, some ulterior motive. Perhaps they were even right.

Blaise Zabini was looking at her as if she were a speck of fingernail dirt, Theodore Nott as if she were something no less unpleasant but perhaps a little more dangerous. Well, she was used to that, especially from Slytherins. But she wondered suddenly if she wouldn't be the only one catching hell from her friends later, and the thought was almost satisfying.

In some ways, the two of them weren't really all that different.

"So," Ed said, addressing her. "What do you think of this... this House dynamic?"

"I think it's troublesome," she said. "There were good reasons for it, originally, but... What do you think about it?"

"It's all that's been on anyone's mind since I've gotten here. I'm in Slytherin, so I must be eeeevil. It's annoying. Actually, it's a bunch of crap."

And it was surely a stupid question, but by this point she really did have to know. "Um, look, do you... do you actually believe all that pureblood rubbish?"

Ed shook his head. "That blood stuff is nonsense. It _is_," he said, turning to Nott and Zabini, who were both looking at him with a mix of disbelief and indulgence. "It's skill that matters. Work. I mean... look at Malfoy. Purest blood out there. That doesn't seem to stop him from being a little weasel." Hemione wondered if she imagined the slight regret in his voice when he said that. Probably. What possible reason would Ed have to care about _Malfoy?_

"Ferret, actually," she said. "Not weasel."

"What?" Ed asked.

"No, the mudblood's right," Zabini said. "Ronald's the weasel. Draco's a ferret."

"The amazing bouncing Malfoy," Theodore Nott laughed. "Pretty quick on the uptake, for a muggle."

Hermione forced herself to keep from punching both of them, or going for her wand. Being called a mudblood didn't hurt any less, after all this time, but this wasn't a fight she could win. Even if she hexed both boys into oblivion -- a thoroughly tempting prospect, and she had been researching some _interesting_ hexes lately, thanks to Crane -- she would have buggered up her chances to deal peacefully with Ed. She would confront him on the bigots for friends thing later.

"No, really," Ed said. "Ferret? What?"

"We'll explain later," Zabini said, draping an arm around Ed's shoulder. The result of this was Ed promptly shoving the taller boy and sending him sprawling.

"Don't treat me like I'm small," Ed said.

"Wasn't. _Wasn't_," Zabini said hastily, staggering to his feet. "Treating you like a comrade. Not small."

"_Not_ one of Slytherin House's proudest moments," Nott said.

"You mean the ferret incident," Hermione said, "or...?" She gestured to Zabini dusting off his robes with a scowl on his face.

"Does it matter?"

"I suppose not."

"Look, we're not friends here, right? We're not going to be."

"Of course. So does that make us enemies, then? Can we manage a bit of civility, or is that falling out of favor in highborn Wizarding households?"

"Civility is highly regarded, between equals," Nott replied.

"Which is to say," Zabini added, "present company not included. But don't take offense."

Theodore Nott inclined his head in something that might have been a nod. "It isn't often we even talk to your sort."

"So I should be flattered?"

"I don't see why not," Zabini said, grinning.

"I'll give you a reason," she said, stepping forward and reaching for her wand. Ed stepped in front of her, restraining her with a hand on her arm.

"Hey," he said. "You guys better cut the crap, all right?"

"Whatever you say, Elric" Nott muttered. "We need to be getting to class anyway."

"'s right," Zabini said. "Better just leave him with his mudblood girlfriend."

"Oh, don't tell me you're jealous, Blaise..." Ed laughed.

"Of you or her?" Zabini asked.

"Get out of here. Go to class," Ed ordered, mock serious. "Don't make me report you for loitering."

The two Slytherins obeyed, laughing and loudly insulting Ed and Hermione as they vanished down the halls, though neither, she noticed, made anything resembling a remark about his height.

Once they were safely out of earshot, she rounded on Ed, hands on her hips. "You get along with them?"

"They're OK," he said, "when you get to know them. Not as bad as they like to pretend."

"Do you understand what he called me? The history behind it?"

"Yeah, and I'm not saying it's right, either. But... That's what they were raised with. That's what the history of this bloody place taught them. You can't blame them for picking it up."

"They're old enough to start thinking for themselves."

"Yeah. But that's kind of hard to do when you're in a place where people don't think at all."

"They're right, though. Class will be starting soon."

"Why don't you skip?"

This was a test, she realized. The first of many, no doubt -- trying to find out what mattered to her. For the first time in years, she realized, she wasn't sure of the answer to that question herself.

"Sure," she said. "Why not? It's not as though prefects have to... I don't know... set a good example or anything."

"Obeying the rules all the time _isn't_ a good example," Ed said, and Hermione didn't have an answer to that at all.

They ditched the castle and headed toward the lake, Hermione trying to suppress the residual guilt that came with not doing as she ought. Her first class was arithmancy that year, a subject she had never had to work at to understand, though that didn't mean it was right of her to skip, or, for that matter, that she didn't enjoy Professor Vector's lectures. But it was a matter of choices, and some chances only ever happened once.

They sat by the lake and enjoyed the sunlight and the water, and Hermione had to admit to herself that it was nice to take even just an hour to herself, an almost undreamed of luxury. They talked of mostly inconsequential things -- the peculiarities of various teachers, a spell or two Ed didn't understand, how much they both disliked Quidditch and sports in general. Hermione wanted to turn the conversation to Ed's life, the symbol on that coat she had seen him wearing, all the knowledge that he seemed to have that he shouldn't and the things he didn't know that he should. But every time she tried to find the words, she couldn't find a way to make them sound anything but pushy or stupid. Then, out of nowhere, Ed brought up Slytherin again.

"Hey, about what happened earlier... where no one could believe a Slytherin and a Gryffindor were saying two words to each other... it's about more than some stupid House rivalry thing, isn't it?"

"Yes, she said slowly. "It is. Maybe it didn't used to be, but it is now. There's a lot going on beneath the surface."

"Yeah, I can tell. Its not just rivalry I'm seeing around here. It's enmity. It's hate. That's not right -- making a bunch of kids hate each other, just because -- "

A crack appeared in the mug he was holding, tiny yet rapidly branching. Then another one. He didn't appear to notice.

"Reparo," she said quickly.

"What was that?"

"Your glass. Haven't you noticed? Whenever you get angry, things start breaking."

"Er... yeah..." Ed looked embarrassed. "I'm still trying to figure that one out."

"Uncontrolled magic," she said. "Once you learn a bit more, the problem should go away. It did for me."

"I don't know about that. But it doesn't matter. The thing is, I've been thinking... we're prefects, right? Our job is to help the students learn."

"Yes..."

"And we both want to go against this stupid House thing, right?"

"Er... yes. I suppose so."

"What do you say to an inte-House study session?"

"Run by us, you mean?"

"You, me, Theodore and Blaise, anybody else who wants to help out..."

"I'm... not sure that's such a good idea."

"I'll tell those two to knock off the blood thing.

"Nott is..." she hesitated. "His father is with Voldemort."

Ed looked at her, then down and away, folding his arms around his knees. "You think," he asked her, "that just because someone's father is a son of a bitch that they have to be one too?"

"I didn't mean that. I just don't think it's wise to assume he's innocent."

"So what is this, a study group or a war council?"

"Point taken."

"You're saying they have to think for themselves, but how are they ever going to if all they ever see are other purebloods? This isn't just for the kids."

"Yeah, I see what you mean." She lay back in the long grass, hands behind her head, staring up at the clouds. "We can use this as an opportunity to patch things up. I wonder if Harry and Ron would be up to helping..."

"Hell no."

She laughed. "If you can bring your friends, I can bring mine."

"They'd get in a fight with Blaise and Theodore."

"We could sell tickets."

"Sure. Why not. You convince Golden Boy and the weasel, I'll convince the snobs, and we can see what happens. My guess is either a melee or an orgy, and I'm guessing our little wizard kids would find both equally educational."

"That isn't funny," she snickered.

"So stop laughing."

And so the study group was agreed upon. Hermione made it clear that she wasn't going to be skipping any other classes, so they decided to meet again after the weekend to finalize matters.

They shook hands and parted ways just inside the castle gates, and Hermione hurried off to her next class feeling just a bit lighter than she had that morning. Things hadn't changed at all -- in fact, she had done nothing more than add one more responsibility to the growing pile -- but nevertheless, the future still seemed slightly easier to face.

Saturday came around quickly, and with it, the first trip to Hogsmeade. Harry and Ron were eager to restock their supply of treats and jokes, but Hermione had been looking forward to the day for a very different reason. She was going to meet with Erik Crane in person for the first time since that summer, and she would be starting her lessons in sorcery. She parted ways with her friends in Honeydukes, telling them that she was going to look for a bookshop and that she would meet them in the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer later. Neither of them so much as noticed anything out of the ordinary. It was funny, she realized, how easy it was to fool people when she acted like they thought Hermione Granger ought to. But then... they trusted her, and she had spent six years creating that trust. In never occurred to anyone that she might do anything other than what she said she would. She felt bad about leaving the two of them, but it wasn't really a matter of choice.

Crane was waiting for her in the Hog's Head, which she suspected he had chosen at least partly for its reputation as Hogsmeade's disreputable tavern of choice. He was sitting at a far table, looking older and more tired than he remembered, with a few books on the table in front of him and his cane leaning against his chair. She sat down across from him without a word, nervous and tense and once again having doubts as to the old man's intentions. He smiled briefly and pushed a mug of butterbeer across the table toward her; his own drink was something dark and smoky she didn't recognize, but she had no doubt it was something strong and expensive.

"And so we begin," he said. "Sorcery. The dark arts. I take it you imagine that you have no experience with this kind of magic. Yes?"

"Yes," she said.

"You're wrong."

"Well, there's Defense, but even in Snape's class that's hardly -- "

"No. You're wrong. You've used the dark arts before."

She shook her head. "I don't think so..."

"Think about magic without a wand," he told her. "The first spell you cast, when you were young. You wanted something, and you made it happen – accidentally, subconsciously, you imposed your will on the world. That's what dark magic is -- force and will. And every wizard child does it. Remember." It wasn't a question, it was a command. So she remembered.

She'd been in the schoolyard, nine years old on a winter morning, with the taste of snow in the air. Recess. One of the older girls had gotten the brilliant idea that it would be fun to taunt the little Granger girl, and quite a few of her peers had agreed. Being the target of snowballs and snide comments was to be expected, and things never got out of hand. But that day, Karen Matheson had walked up to her and plucked her book -- a history of the solar system -- from her hands and flipped through the pages, reading in a sneeringly nasal, proper voice. That had been too much.

Hermione Granger had not been a popular child. She had been too quiet, too shut-in, and altogether too plain and awkward. Teachers found her disconcerting in the way she filed away everything she learned into the encyclopedia of her mind, and other children had found her eagerness to show off her knowledge a mark of snobbishness and the worst kind of geekery. She had been, as far as she knew, the only teacher's pet in the history of her school that none of the teachers had actually managed to like. So it wasn't a surprise to anyone, least of all herself, when she had ended up being teased.

But it was a considerable surprise when on that already windy day the wind had kept rising, almost to hurricane force, knocking Karen and Christine and the others to the blacktop and whisking their schoolbooks and papers into the air while Hermione huddled untouched in the center of the gale, not quite believing what she had managed to do just by wishing.

She had tried to reproduce the effect later. She had stared at inanimate objects, willing them to fall over, fly backward, break. It hadn't worked. But all the same, things had started happening at the oddest times. Crockery broke, clocks stopped and started, their hands spinning crazily, plants died, fires started.

The Grangers -- both strictly rational materialists though they were -- began to fear that their house was possessed. The night when the mirror in their bedroom shattered, loudly and without warning, had convinced them. But moving hadn't ended the accidents. Hermione's Hogwarts letter had come as a great relief to everyone in the household -- it was an explanation and it was an ending, and soon enough, a frightened and very angry young girl was safe and out of the house.

"You didn't know what you were doing then," Crane said, bringing her back to the present day. "You had the power but you lacked the focus. That's what wands and incantations give you – focus. An external channel for your thoughts. They aren't necessary. They provide a crutch. Sorcery is about learning to walk without crutches – gaining control from inside, not out. Now," he placed an unlit candle on the table. "Fire is easy. I want you to light this, without speaking and if possible without _thinking_ the word _incendio_."

"How?"

"You know how. Remember how you did it before. Go back to the beginning."

_Well, can you _get_ any more vague?_

She stared at the candle, not wanting to admit ignorance or inability. You couldn't create something from nothing, not even with magic. But... it wasn't a matter of something from nothing. The room was full of oxygen, the candle was fuel; all she needed was a spark. A bit of heat. She stared at the candle, willing it to light, picturing the flame in her mind, but it wasn't working. How _had_ she done it before?

She had wanted the world to be different, and so she had arranged it differently, Crane had said -- as she might do now. But that made no sense. The world didn't work like that. The world was rules and, and formulae, and... She glared at the table. She should be able to do this. Why the _hell_ couldn't she?

"What's wrong?" Crane asked lightly. Mockingly. "It's simple." The old man leaned on the table, tracing patterns on its surface, smiling. _Old bastard._ He was laughing at her inside, she knew. At her lack of ability. But he hadn't taught her how, he just expected her to know, to understand the first time perfectly. _What right does he have to mock me?_ _How dare he..._

Anger bloomed in her, hot and bright. Her fists clenched, her teeth gritted. Bastards, all of them. Laughing at her. They had no right, no right.

Something subtle in the atmosphere of the room shifted, opened, changed. The mask of the physical world was lifted, and for just a moment she managed to glimpse the naked energy beneath. It wasn't sight, or touch, or any other sense she had a name for. If anything, it felt like what she imagined the air would feel like just before a lightning strike: heavy, ominous, crackling with restrained power. If you needed power it was there, held in the bonds of atoms, in their components. It just needed to be released. _Simple,_ she thought.

And:

_Burn_.

Fire flared into life. It consumed the candle in a flash of white heat, then vanished as quickly as she had called it, leaving the table with a large charred ring and a pool of bubbling wax and no candle to be seen.

She stared at her handiwork, stunned. She could do it again, she supposed. It hadn't been difficult. A tiny change, a shift in the balance, and then channel the force just _so_. But that wasn't how magic worked. That wasn't how magic worked at all. She pushed herself back from the table, feeling lightheaded and a little giddy, a little frightened, balancing on an adrenaline edge.

"Not bad, for a first success," Crane told her. "Control is necessary, of course. But that will come in time. As I recall, Sirius destroyed the room we were standing in the first time he tried."

"I was… angry."

"Yes. That's how it often works. When there is no fear, no anger, no desire, there is no impetus for transformation. Young Sirius... now _he_ was angry." Crane smiled serenely. "Still is, no doubt, if he's still alive."

"Sirius," she said, once she was certain she had heard correctly. "You mean Black, right? You knew him?"

"I knew him," Crane muttered. "I trained him. And doesn't _that_ just fill you with confidence?"

"Then you might know... how to catch him? Where he might be hiding?" She leaned forward, speaking in a rushed whisper. If Sirius were apprehended, Harry might be drawn back from his bleak sullenness, might return to something closer to the boy she had first befriended. Step out of Pettigrew's shadow, perhaps, and learn to stand on his own feet. Things would be easier between them, at the very least. And if a few mysteries were solved along the way, so much the better. But Crane did not seem pleased with the idea.

"If you are wise -- and I do not in the least expect you will be, but I feel compelled to warn you nonetheless -- _if_ you are wise, you will leave the Black boy and all that family alone. They aren't your business, and it isn't often that one finds a student of your potential. It would be a great pity if you ended up dead before your time."

"I don't intend to hunt him down myself!" she said. "Do I look like Harry to you? But the Order... any information they can get..."

"I am not on good terms with the Order, Granger. And if they find you running to them with sudden knowledge concerning Sirius Black, do you not imagine they are going to wonder where you are getting it?"

"Tonks will wonder," Hermione said. "But she won't ask." She never did, after all. Tonks had her own worries, and not nearly enough time to go poking into other people's business. Hermione wasn't certain if she was pleased with that fact or not.

Crane nodded. "If you are intent on pursuing this train of thought," he said, "there is something that I ought to show you. In hopes of dissuading you from your recent stupidity."

He reached a spidery hand into the folds of his robe and withdrew a small clear vial, filled with swirling, silvery liquid. Hermione recognized it on sight: the substance of memories. She took the bottle from him and unstoppered it, poured the semi-liquid stuff into a small shallow pensieve he handed her, leaned forward and fell into the past.

She was standing close to the edge of a large room, the air heavy with the smell of scented candles and old parchment, slightly cloying. She recognized it immediately as the sitting room of Grimmauld Place, but this was not the Grimmauld Place she had seen while visiting Ed. The atmosphere of trepidation was still there, but the dust and cobwebs were gone, as was the clutter. The furniture was old and expensive, some dark wood she didn't recognize polished to a sleek and sinister gleam. Portraits of the family scowled down from high places on the walls, making her feel trapped and claustrophobic. Everything was clean, everything was precise, the faded colors now deep and rich. This was the Black house in its prime.

_Imagine growing up here_, she thought with a shiver. _No wonder he went bad_. And that thought itself was dangerous, teetering on the edge of a precipice, so she put concerns of nature and nurture out of her head and just watched.

Her eyes were drawn first to the people in the center of the room: a stern middle-aged witch conferring with two shady-looking men in suits. A few more years, more bitterness set in the lines of her face, and the woman would be indistinguishable from the ranting portrait gracing Grimmauld Place's halls. Hermione didn't recognize the men, but something about them made her skin crawl. And there was a younger, though not much younger, Erik Crane, standing at the edge of the small circle. He didn't seem to be a part of it; he looked frightened himself, though he hid it well, and something about his posture made him seem both defensive and out of his depth.

Two adolescent boys stood against the wall, held apart from the conversation. One, wiry and bespectacled, was so similar to Harry in appearance that Hermione had to briefly remind herself that this was the past. The other was a skinnier, more sullen-looking boy, with dark hair that fell almost to his shoulders. She could not put a name to him immediately, and when it struck her who she must be looking at she caught her breath, stepping closer involuntarily. That was him -- the traitor, the killer -- as a child.

"What's this even about?" The boy who would be Harry's father asked. His future murderer shrugged.

"Don't know, exactly. Family business of some sort," Sirius Black said, and Hermione could hear the tension in his voice. "But look -- Cousin Bella's jealous." Contempt infused his words, and the dangerous smirk on his face. He waved a hand lazily in the direction of the hallway, and Hermione, like James, turned in time to catch sight of a spidery girl in dark green peering around the edge of the doorframe. She was thin and awkward, but already holding the promise of beauty and madness like the petals of a dark flower, waiting to unfold. _Cousin Bella,_ Hermione thought, catching sight of the girl's face, and shivered. Bellatrix Black's features were cold with anger, her eyes flat with resentment, her pale hands clenched at her sides as she watched.

Sirius waved at her, mocking, and she stuck out her tongue and raised her middle finger before vanishing down the hallway in a flurry of silken robes. Sirius laughed strangely, and James put a hand on his arm, calming, restraining.

Hermione moved closer to the group in the center of the room, in time to catch a deal being struck, over Crane's quiet protests. A written contract was offered by one of the strange men and signed with a flourish by old Mrs. Black.

"Very well, then," the witch said. "It's settled. He's all yours." And the two strangers stood up, one of them beckoning to Sirius.

"All right, 's time for you to come with us. Gotta job we need you to do."

Sirius watched them blankly, his hands loose by his sides.

"You know," he said, "I don't really want to. Find someone else. Regulas would be happy to serve you."

"Nothing doing," the man said. "You don't exactly got a choice. Only one king. Only one prince. That's how the deal went."

"You're coming with us, I'm afraid, like it or not," his companion said, grinning.

"Like hell he is," James snarled, raising his wand.

"James, don't --" Sirius started, but it was too late. James had already made his choice and acted on it, like Harry, without thinking of the danger.

The taller of the two men smiled unpleasantly. "Your choice, kid," he said, and flicked a hand lazily. James Potter was knocked by some invisible force to the side, out of the way. He landed badly, one hand hitting the floor with too much force, the sound of snapping bone and a raw sound of pain forced from the boy's lungs. Sirius started toward where he had fallen, then turned, literally snarling, fury in his eyes.

"Sectumsempra," he shouted, "Incendio, sectumsempra!" And a few other spells she didn't recognize, and finally just a wordless howl. There was no wand in his hand, but that didn't stop the destruction the boy summoned. Erik Crane was knocked backward off his feet, a gash opening along his leg from his thigh to his knee, bright blood soaking his robes. Mrs. Black was able to throw up a barrier against his curses, but Hermione could tell from the paleness of her face and the tremor in her hands that it was costing her, and she wouldn't be able to keep it up for long. In the meantime, Sirius settled for tearing up the room around him. Furniture was tossed backward, shattered and burning, portraits torn from the walls, glass shattering...

And then there was the older Erik Crane's hand on her shoulder, pulling her up and out of the memory.

When she looked at him again, he was paler than she had ever seen him, the deep lines in his face drawn tighter around his mouth and eyes. The smile on his face was ironic, but Hermione could recognize fear when she saw it.

"That's what you're putting yourself up against, you know. That rage. It hasn't vanished." The implication was there in his eyes, it had deepened in his mind. Worsened as the years went by, the dementors eating at his mind; it wasn't a comforting thought.

"I'd guessed that much," she said.

"So... do you still want to know?"

"I have to."

"You have to. Well then." Crane laughed shakily. "Well, then. He can do worse than that, you know. Poor control, but great strength. Sorcery's probably how he managed to escape, and if anyone manages to catch up to him, it's what they'll be dealing with."

"So where could he be?"

"Haven't the foggiest. You aren't likely to find him around the old Black house, though. He hated that place. He hasn't joined up with He Who Must Not Be Named, either -- we would have noticed if he had. There would be a whole lot more dead people, for one thing. He's probably gone to ground somewhere."

"And do you have any idea -- "

"How to find him? I don't know. Most likely you can't, and you should be thankful. But here's something to consider -- what's he after? If you discover his motive, and there always is a motive, you'll be able to predict him."

"And where would I start looking for a motive?"

"The past, perhaps? Could anything have happened to make him switch sides? And what afterwards?"

"I don't know. Don't you know any of this?"

"I just trained him. We weren't on good terms, near the end, nor much in the beginning either. But I'll send you all the information I can find. Hermione, please don't show anyone the things I send to you about Sirius. The less people that see them the better."

Hermione sighed. "Brilliant. I'm scared out of my mind and I've learned nothing."

"You've learned enough to be afraid."

"Well, isn't _that_ comforting? I have to go -- I told my friends I'd be meeting them."

"Fare thee well, then" Crane said. "I'll see you next visit, I imagine?"

She nodded curtly. "If you can teach me... how to do what _he_ did..."

"Indeed I can."

She hurried off through the streets of Hogsmeade to meet with Harry and Ron. The two of them had gotten a table at the Three Broomsticks, the warm tavern made all the cozier in contrast to the Hog's Head's squalor, and they had even ordered food and drink for her. She slipped in beside them gratefully, spun a brief tale of a signed copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ going for far too much money and then let Ron take over the conversation. In her mind she was already composing a letter to Tonks: _I need to talk to you about Sirius Black. I suspect he's more dangerous than we've realized, but I may have discovered a source of information. Meet me in private, ASAP._

And she wondered, suddenly, what exactly it was she had seen in the pensieve. If someone had told her she would witness Sirius Black going berserk, she wouldn't have imagined it being in defense of James Potter. He had betrayed Harry's father, right? He was a madman, a Death Eater, didn't care for anyone except himself and Voldermort. Right?

It seemed easy to hate the man, to view him as an incarnation of evil. Certainly all the photos she had seen of him were portraits of madness, something dead and cold behind that smile. But she had seen what was in his dark, hollow eyes, beneath the anger and even the fear. It was something deeper than friendship, closer to brotherhood. Hermione shook her head, trying to set her facts in order, look at things logically. Sirius had been under control until James had gotten involved. It had been a threat to James that sent him over the edge.

Which was to say... Back then, the man had cared more for his friends than he cared for himself. The capacity to kill was there, sure. The capacity to murder innocents. She had seen it herself. But at the moment, it seemed strange to imagine that hatred leveled against James, and once again the edges of the puzzle seemed to fit together wrong.

Sirius had loved James Potter like a brother. Had betrayed him.

Did people change that much?

Something was missing. So what was it?

_And where would I start looking for a motive?_

_The past, perhaps?_

The last thing in the world she needed was more research. Nevertheless, she added a postscript to her mental letter to Tonks: bring me every record for the Black trial you can find.

Something was just not right.


	11. Chapter 11

Half Pain

_Half Pain _

_Chapter 11 – When People Fall_

Disclaimer – I do not own anything and I am not making an profit off of this.

Sorry this has taken such a long time to get out. Either way, I hope you all the like the chapter, and don't be afraid to critique my work.

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"_Freak."_

It was the one word that kept on repeating in his head, over and over again, like a broken record. Not that anyone would have known what a record was here. He couldn't stop himself from applying that term -- freakish -- to this whole world. This world was so different from his own; he didn't really like the advances in the technology. He liked the magic even less. Every moment he spent here felt like a moment wasted, at least when he actually got around to thinking about it. Time was passing, precious time, and here he was studying magic and not getting any closer to Alphonse.

The dog was no substitute.

But he had to deal with the fact that the dog was going to be about the closest thing he would get to his brother for the time being. This was based on the assumption that Alphonse was indeed alive. All the things that he did at this point were based on the assumption that his brother was alive. And if his brother was alive, then Ed was sure that Al wouldn't begrudge him a few moments spent… for himself.

His brother would want him to have a little bit of fun, a little bit of time spent for himself… Alphonse had always thought that Ed spent a little too much time studying. Either way he looked at it he felt conflicted at where the time was going, and how fast the days seemed to pass. At this point, he needed something. Something that would save his sanity.

Beyond, of course, what he was getting. The school that he was going to was hardly normal. Then again, he had never exactly been to a normal school. Back in Amestris there were no schools for alchemy. You had to find an alchemist and beg to be taken on as a student. It was a time consuming process, and it took a lifetime to be able to learn the art properly. Which is why it was important that the training should be started at a young age and taken seriously, by both the teacher and the student. It just so happened that his teacher had been just a bit too serious about the training she gave him. But he didn't want to think about Izumi's teaching methods right now. Or ever.

There was a little brass clock at the side of his bed that was ticking away. Every night he fell asleep to the sound of that ticking. The clock itself was his own little sin. He had crafted it from alchemy, just to remind himself that he was a master at something still. It was funny, he had gained some popularity from the fact that he was a child prodigy back at home. Yet here he had gained popularity for a much more… humiliating reason: his seeming lack of talent, not to mention control, with his magical abilities.

It boggled the minds of all the teachers. They had quizzed him incessantly about the spells. Everything from pronunciation to the way the wand was supposed to move. To say the least, it was infuriating, to both himself and them. Severus was the most persistent with trying to figure out what was wrong with his magical abilities. Oh, there were the other teachers… Flitwick and McGonagall had both fretted over the matter, and to his current knowledge, no one had been able to come up with an explanation. This suited him just as much as the alternative did, because it was a sound fact that there was an alternative to everything, and in his life so far, all the alternatives he had encountered had sucked.

As much as he loved the introspection, there was still the matter of time. It was a little bit before six in the morning. He pulled himself out of bed and made his way to the prefect bathrooms. It was important that no one find out… in a world where reading minds was apparently a thing that was conceivable and limbs would be grown back in a single night it was a very real thing that people would seriously question his automail.

And the automail would lead to so many more questions. It wasn't so much the nature of the automail that he didn't want to explain. It was the history of the automail. It was the why of the automail. And if there was one question that people would ask, it was why. Few people would have taken 'I did a stupid thing as a child' for an answer. People by their very nature wanted to know the answers to things, and they tended to want to know the full answer.

So it ended up that the best thing to do was to get ready before everyone else. It wasn't a very hard thing to do; by their very nature, boys of his age tended to like to sleep in as late as humanly possible. Then again, the girls weren't to keen on getting up either. Not that he was. He hated the routine of having to get up before everyone else just so he could get ready for the day without the risk of anyone else seeing him.

The one singular advantage of getting up before everyone else was that he had the prefects bathroom to himself, practically. Practically. There were always ghosts that roamed the castle. One in particular roamed the bathrooms; his fellow students called her Moaning Myrtle. He could see the moaning part, she did it all the time. But he thought that the name was slightly incomplete due to the fact that it failed to mention that she was also a pervert and liked to spy on the male students while they were bathing.

That was the thing that bugged him most about this world. The dead didn't stay dead. They came back as ghosts, literal things that you could interact with. He had interacted with Myrtle. Very briefly. He tried not to think about it. But of all the stupid things that could rat him out to the rest of the school… a ghost. A fucking dead person. Something that shouldn't even be there in the first place… but he guessed that was how it went. Each realm to its own weirdness.

Most of the ghosts tended to stay out of the bathrooms. They didn't really care for seeing the students naked. Myrtle was a different story. She openly pursued some of the students. What worried him is that some of the students didn't seem to be so bothered by… their interactions with her. He was bothered by the interactions with her. He was bothered all the interactions he had with the other ghosts.

It had a bit like this: she had tried to 'interact' with him. He had… gently reminded her that she was indeed dead and that if this continued he would take some steps to make sure that she could… more fully appreciate her time as a dead person. He tried to think of it as if he was doing her a favor. Showing her how to enjoy being dead. Although technically, she had been dead for longer than he had, but there was a difference between them. He had chosen to go to the Gate. She was choosing to stay behind and angst.

The day was indicating that it would be a good one. Myrtle was not in the bathroom. Or near the bathroom. The bathroom was free of people. It would be, at this hour of the morning. The bathroom, unlike a great deal of the castle, was very warm all the time. It was oversized. The bathtubs were enormous and were, in his opinion, a grand waste of space. Most students chose to take a bath in the evening, so that they could enjoy the whole relaxing and soaking experience. He couldn't, for obvious reasons, the foremost one being that he did not want to induce rust. However, the bathtubs were very useful when it came to bathing the dog.

Of course he had to bring the dog with him in the morning, because there was always the small chance the dog would find some way to act out again. He was not going to take the chance of losing the dog again or give the teachers an excuse to take the dog away from him. So he figured just as long as he kept the dog clean and free of fleas then everything should be fine. This, however, entailed keeping the dog on a tight leash most of the time.

He couldn't do a lot of things that the other people could do at this school, not including the magic. Not that he really wanted to do magic, it was more like a possible means to an end. Using magic to get yourself ready in the morning seemed pointless to him. Getting ready using normal methods helped start the day, wake the person up. Or at least that was the case was him.

To his other classmates it was a different story – they used magic constantly. From dawn until dusk. Even doing the simplest tasks without magic, like getting ready in the morning, was impossible for them. It brought attention to him because he didn't use magic as much as the others did.

Or rather, he seemingly could not use magic without screwing something up. Majorly screwing something up. Apparently, classes hadn't been this eventful since the first year his current classmates had started. There was apparently a competition going on between him and Neville Longbottom – who could have the most screw ups in class for the remaining time in Hogwarts. Most people were betting that he was going to be the winner.

"Smoothly. Why can't things ever go smoothly?" He said as he finished up some maintenance on his auto-mail. It was all a part of the routine in the morning. He had to keep the auto-mail in good shape since it wasn't so easy as making the trip to Resembool to get it repaired. His dog was looking at him intently while he finished up the maintenance. The dog was the only creature that currently knew about the auto-mail; no matter how he pictured it in his mind, telling Blaise and Theodore would be just too complicated.

When it came to clothing, he had perfected the art of layering. He always wore two long sleeved shirts, a jacket, and robes that had sleeves long enough to cover his hands. The gloves topped off the whole thing and they were made of thick cotton. After that, it was just a matter of being careful of which hand he used to touch people. It was one thing to be bad at magic to the point where the whole school was talking about it, but it was another thing to have a metal arm in a place were you could simply grow them back. In the middle of a war, with a Ministry that didn't particularly inspire the trust in the citizens, being strange or different in any way seemed to him like a risky situation.

"It'll only last a little while, Alphonse. I'll get us back and then I can stop dressing like a freak and then things will go back to normal. No more military. No more Hogwarts. No more…"

Friends. He wouldn't deny the fact that he did enjoy the company of Blaise and Theodore, in a completely non-sexual way, and that now his plans included taking a dog with him back home. With his friends, he could talk about things that he and Alphonse just couldn't talk about. It was a guilty pleasure, enjoying himself and wasting time with his friends when he should be off researching on how to get back home. Exchanging memories for a way back home with the Gate… he wouldn't be doing that this time. He wanted to keep the memories, not that he seriously thought that the Gate would take the same exchange twice.

Looking at himself in the mirror he could see that he fit the part: rich kid, consummate Slytherin, and obedient Hogwarts prefect. Nothing out of place, nothing suspicious. He ran back through the halls, his dog chasing behind him, back to the Slytherin dormitories. There was still a fair hour and a half before he really had to be anywhere. He had yet to seriously talk to his friends about the inter-house study sessions. Morning would be the best time to catch them. They wouldn't be all the way awake and wouldn't be really realizing what they were agreeing to until after they had agreed to it.

Unless he had suddenly made both Blaise and Theodore early risers; this he seriously doubted. When he got to the dormitories, surely enough they were both just barely waking up.

"Hey guys, we really need to talk about something."

"Ed, this can wait." Blaise complained.

"I don't really think it can. This is a matter of supreme importance that I must get done by today. Think of it as a way to prove to the whole of Hogwarts that Harry Potter is an idiot." At the mention of that, his friend seemed a bit more awake.

"How is this going to happen?" Theodore asked, as he casually used magic to make his hair sit in that perfect flat and orderly manner. Not something Ed would ever do himself; pointing a wand anywhere near his head seemed like an extremely bad idea, as anything he pointed his wand at had a slight tendency to explode.

"Inter-house study sessions. We need to start breaking down this stereotype of all the four houses. Plus it would come with the added bonus of study guides from all the different teachers. I already have ones from both Snape and Slughorn in hand."

"If you hadn't noticed, Ed…" Blaise started. Alphonse walked around the room toward them, and Blaise reached out and patted Alphonse in-between the ears. The dog did not look happy about it at first; it seemed to be reluctant to trust anyone from the Slytherin house, not to mention the almost too frequent attempts to destroy Snape's office or disrupt his class, but settled on the comfort of a good head scratch. One wrong move, though, and Blaise would be dead.

"Neither of you are Death Eaters, and neither of you are going to be joining any time soon. That aside, you are the prefects of the Slytherin house."

"Yes. That we are. And you are one from Gryffindor." Theodore noted. "Not that it really matters."

"That isn't the point."

"Don't you like being up there at this hour in the morning?" Blaise asked. "I like to think about the Death Eater stuff in the afternoon if I can help it."

"Normally, yes."

"Then let us continue the conversation afterwards, at breakfast." Blaise said in a clipped voice. He liked to laze around in the mornings and gradually wake up and enjoy life. "Tea. I need tea to think about this. Potter is infuriating and Slughorn likes him, bloody traitor."

"Or you could just come with me and discuss it there. Come on, Blaise, Theodore, you'd be like legends in the Slytherin house: they who dared to venture into the land of Red and Gold. Before morning tea, no less."

"Or rather the people who dared to venture into the land where Harry Potter is king," Theodore said. "You know, I've heard people saying that if you don't like the man, then secretly you want to have hot gay sex with him. They weren't joking, either. Bloody mad. Of course, as far as I'm concerned, the man is just simply annoying. If you're not going then I certainly am. I am more than willing to take the credit for this."

"Or the ultimate fall." Blaise added.

"So pessimistic?" Ed said.

"Falling can be fun too. Exacting pity out of people, then taking advantage of kindness. If you are out of favor with the Slytherin house then it can be easier to find favor with the other tolerable houses at Hogwarts. Ravenclaws are wonderful people." Blaise glared at him as he spoke the words, but started to get ready with the ever-ready help of magic. Theodore was grinning on the other side of the room and was probably trying to think of some prank he could pull in the Gryffindor house. That or how to make his hair even straighter than it was currently.

They made their way bravely into the part of the school where no Slytherin normally ventured. Into the land of Harry Potter and terrible color schemes; the red was bearable in some cases, but the gold was... not. Blaise and Theodore stood out with all their green… and Slytherin badges… regalia… But it was the simple fact of the matter that Blaise and Theodore could be dressed in normal Gryffindor clothing and they would still be… still have that… menacing look to them.

"So the purpose of this little inter-house study session is to breed some…"

"Peace and understanding between the four houses. In addition, it will help create a better learning environment. It will help other people see that people from other houses are at the same level that they are at." Ed filled in.

"So people from Hufflepuff can see that people from Ravenclaw are at the same level?" Blaise frowned. "That doesn't seem quite right."

"Assuming they really are at them same level, I don't see why not," Ed said. "A little bit of competition never hurt anyone."

Alphonse settled himself beside the fire as soon as they entered the Gryffindor common room, and the two students who had been sitting by the fire decided to vacate their spots. The students that were starting to come into the common room also avoided the dog. Ed didn't think Alphonse was all that menacing, but then again, nothing named after his little brother could be all that scary. Al had managed to make a giant, spiked suit of armor look friendly... and that line of thought wasn't one that Ed really wanted to follow at the moment. Not when he couldn't do anything for his brother one way or another.

Blaise and Theodore got up from where they were sitting and located themselves by the fire, and since the couch could only easily seat two, Ed followed them. The few people left in the room -- mostly younger students, Ed couldn't attach names to any of them -- stared, then hastily looked away when he looked at them.

"What I am seeing in this school is a lack of knowledge of the basics in a lot of the cases, and a severe animosity between the four houses. We are all people and in the real world, we are going to have to work together, whether we like it or not. This hatred cannot go on, there is more to life than Hogwarts."

"You make an excellent point. What do we get out of it?" Blaise asked, with Theodore looking intently in Ed's direction.

"The knowledge and satisfaction that you have helped others." He hadn't thought of a reward to give them for helping with the study session. The idea for it had just kind of dawned on him and… sigh.

"Besides that." Theodore said.

"I'll let you see inside the Black house. You can even take a souvenir picture."

"Wasn't exactly what we were thinking about but that sounds alright. Over Christmas then, complete tour of the Black house… and souvenir picture." Theodore said, with a definite sound of defeat in his voice. There was no big argument. No long rambling debate. Just defeat and acceptance. And the promise that they could get somewhere in life; both of them had things that they wanted to accomplish. Theodore wanted more money and power for the family. Blaise wanted… a woman that was not skilled in poisons and would listen to him.

From the way the two of them fidgeted and scowled at nothing in particular, Ed could tell that they wanted out. But they didn't whine about it. True friendship knew no bounds. The Gryffindor students were gradually starting to file into the common room and out the door for breakfast. Time was a limited thing, and so he tried to spend as much time as he could in the common room of the Gryffindor house, partially to assert the fact that he was the Gryffindor prefect and Ronald Weasley was not. Only the truly brave seemed to come and ask him questions. He usually got at least one, again usually first or second years who needed someone to answer their questions and had no one else.

Today was slightly different. With the appearance of the two Slytherin prefects he was guessing that he was not going to get any questions from the students. They would loose any faith and trust in him. All because of… well… colors? Symbols?

Colors were powerful things. They meant something. Symbols meant something: the snake and the lion competing, when in reality, the two symbols were very compatible. The snake for wisdom and the lion for courage, though on one end or the other, the dragon might be more suitable for either house. The other two houses were looked down upon and were thrown into the sidelines. Only the special people got sorted into Gryffindor and Slytherin. Either you were truly good or truly evil.

The thing that puzzled him the most was the evil snake thing. Snakes did not equate with evil. Snakes were a symbol for wisdom and the knowledge of alchemy. There was the fanciful myth that the snake had given mankind the knowledge of alchemy originally. The myth was taught in various forms, but the original came from an ancient religion that wasn't practiced any more. He could see why; he had seen enough violence done in the name of religion. As far as he was concerned, any system that tried to tell you not to think, just to accept, was inherently bad. The stories were good, though. The roots were the problem with it all. The base was just too flawed to be taken seriously anymore. And so stories would just be stories… and there would be no real truth behind them.

"Ed?"

"Huh?"

"You know, I think that we're going to need a down payment for our services. You just have to tell us why that house elf of the Black house listens to you."

"It is a half crazed senile elf, who just happens to make really good waffles. Why is it so important to know why it obeys me? I think the most important thing about the relationship is that I treat it fairly and it does whatever I say."

"Because anything from the Black house is interesting, didn't you know that?"

Anything from the Black house was interesting. Personally, Ed thought that the house was over-rated. It had been filthy, abandoned, and had stunk when he had first arrived. But it had been a house and he had made do with what he got.

The common room around him was filling up with students, among them Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. He would have expected Hermione to be with them, to complete the golden trio. She wasn't. Looking at Harry, he said very clearly, "I don't know why the elf was following me… but I seemed to get the impression that he had been told to.

"Told to?"

"Yes, I admit it. You see, I am in secret communication with the notorious murderer Sirius Black. I am working for the Death Eaters. I mean to take over the world and wear a ridiculous hat for the rest of my life." The initial effect of this statement was that Blaise and Theodore were almost rolling on the floor laughing.

The other Gryffindors in the room were not.

"Bravo Ed. It is what we look forward to, both Blaise and I... wearing weird hats and ruling the world."

"No, but seriously, I think that the weird portrait of the woman might have told him. He seemed to listen to it. But need I insert the fact that listening to… a portrait… is a slightly illogical thing to do."

"I knew it!"

"That I am a death eater and my only pleasure is looking in on the life of Harry Potter? Like that is the only thing that I have to do with my life right now? Oh Harry, I will tell you what, you can demand my house elf to tell you why he has been following me, how I got into that house, and if I am a death eater and a loyal follower of Voldemort and Sirius Black. And, as you know, House elves can never lie."

"You should do the right thing, Elric, and just admit it… take a truth potion and tell the truth. We will prove it eventually. You aren't fooling anyone with that incompetent act. You're a liar and a Death Eater. It is only a matter of time before everyone else catches on."

Given the amount of time that the boy spent hating Snape, it was a wonder that he would even bother to use one of Snape's tactics.

"I would," Ed told him, "except for the other questions that might come with the ones that would clear my name. Questions that I don't think that anyone has a right to know the answer to here. I like my privacy."

"Kind of suspicious, isn't it, that you have so much to hide..." Harry's implication was clear.

"Not really. We all have things that we don't want to tell other people. We all have memories that we don't want other people to see. There is no one I can trust to interview me and for that matter, Potter, what have I done that is against the rules or illegal, besides breaking into an abandoned house and restoring it?"

"You have been associating with known Death Eaters and have been trying to get out of the school. You show up out of nowhere, claim to have escaped from Voldemort, you are infiltrating the school and the Order, ingratiating yourself, researching weird things... What's to say you aren't a Death Eater spy?"

"They are Slytherin students. Interaction is inevitable. Talking with Death Eaters is not a crime against society and does not mean that you are a Death Eater yourself."

"You have been slacking off on your prefect duties." Harry accused. "Students could be hurt in the hallways or sneaking in goods that are illegal. Many of the Slytherins are from families that have been proven to be Death Eaters and so therefore, as a Gryffindor prefect, you should be taking even more initiative to watch them. Draco Malfoy, for example…"

But of course, being the consummate Slytherin student and as an effect of hanging out with other Slytherin students… well… there was an effect. The effect wasn't so much as bad as it was extremely useful: there was always an excuse. A logical, well thought out excuse that you can counter the other party's argument with. The trick is figuring out of the excuse and melding it with your own personal beliefs.

"I seriously doubt that I could stop any more misdeeds even if I did spend some more time scouting the halls. I tried. I gave up. Students, it seems, will have sex in the halls whether we want them to or not. The only thing that we can be hopeful of is that they are using condoms. After all, war never stopped the other officers from getting down and then telling me in graphic detail when my brother wasn't around."

"So you are admitting that you have been slacking off on the prefect duties!" Ron said. "What sort of prefect are you? There is a war going on and you…"

"Aren't protecting the students?" It was Theodore. Theodore. The perfect example of a Slytherin prefect, who wasn't prone to talking to other students, "But then again, Ron, when did you ever spend serious time protecting the students from the evils of Voldemort? I seem to remember you whining with Harry about Umbridge a lot."

"We formed the DA, which you would know if you spent any time outside your own house," Harry retorted. "And Umbridge was a menace."

"Umbridge was a woman who needed to get laid. Speaking of which, is it true that your little friend Granger had the centaurs rape Umbridge?" Blaise had just asked the most insulting question ever posed, in the most innocent possible tone. He was smiling, taking the initiative to annoy Harry and Ron by being rude in a polite way. "I got to give the girl credit, genius work. Never would have thought of it myself, tend to veer towards poisons. The people don't talk afterwards, you see. But that… bloody brilliant."

"You are a monster."

"I never denied it. World's a big place, Harry. Gotta know what to use and when to use it, we just take advantage of it. Which is why we are taking advantage of the current situation," Blaise said. "You and Ron being here. Think about it: you are making the heroes of Slytherin. Blaise and Theodore, they who venture into the land of shitty interior design. You really need to petition to the headmaster to do something about the décor in here. Historic or not, it is simply terrible."

"Popularity in one's own house is important, but Blaise, it is also important to consider the other houses," Theodore said.

"Theodore, you bring up an interesting point that I have never considered before. There are other people in the world. Not all of them are Slytherin and, unlikely as it seems, surely there must be other intelligent and well rounded people outside of the house of Slytherin."

"Blaise, it seems that Ed has inspired me to think outside the box and maybe consider that people from other houses are equal. I think that we should try and apply this principle to both Harry Potter and his friend Ronald Weasley."

"Theodore, I can honestly say that I think that you have gone off into the deep end."

"Why thank you, Blaise. But speaking of the décor, where is Hermione? She must understand colors. She is a woman after all. Of all the people here that would understand, it would be her. Maybe she can even do something about it."

"Now guys, there is no reason for this sort of talk," Ed said. He had been taught to respect the female gender; chauvinistic comments, even when unintentional, were among the many things that tended to earn the wrath of Izumi. Ed had never made that mistake himself, but he had seen it happen, and the memory still made him wince.

"But we weren't even insulting. We were practically complimenting her!"

"In the most insulting way possible. Blaise and Theodore, you are told enough to think for yourselves. See it in your heart to get along with them. There will be no dueling in the house of Gryffindor. We are here with purpose, remember?"

"Yes, we are. Inter-house unity," Blaise said. "But wasn't Hermione supposed to talk to them about the whole thing and then what? We all get together and plan it out."

"Technically, Ed, everybody isn't here. We are missing two houses and Hermione. She should be the one talking to Harry and Ron in the first place."

"Sadly my contacts from the other houses could not attend this early morning meeting. Luna said she would be taking care of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. I figured I wouldn't need to mention… you guys get along with Luna excellently"

Except now, that is. Ed could see the distaste in their faces. Gryffindor was buying into the whole plot, as well as most of the school, but Luna, their good friend, wasn't buying into the whole thing. Consorting with the enemy of sorts. Nevertheless, both Harry and Ron both gave a small smile and shrugged their shoulders. Luna would be good. Luna would be fine and Hufflepuff was a safe house.

It was the recruits from Slytherin that bothered them so much, but then again, any recruit from Slytherin would have bothered them. It was the house as a whole, and the worst part was that the parents of these children encouraged the rivalry. He could understand why they might do it. The Slytherins were just as bad about the whole thing. It was human nature to be afraid of something different from yourself; it was like people in his own world would react to the Ishbalans. They didn't know about them, but in this case, the two parties just simply did not want to know each other, creating a self-induced ignorance that was unforgivable.

"Look Ed, the idea is great. I think, though, that we would be better in just limiting the study sessions by house. We won't be able to get along." Ron said. "It's been like that from the start of the school. If we were meant to get along then there wouldn't be four houses. It is really better this way."

"The houses are just not meant to mix. Having these things… just doesn't seem right. I mean sure, it is okay to hang out with people from other houses every now and then, but giving information away to potential Death Eaters is just stupid." Harry added.

"Don't mind them, Ed. The only reason that they are in a fuss is because Slytherin is involved. Don't take it personally." Theodore said and then added on in a loud whisper. "They don't understand a lot."

"I think," Blaise said, "That Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnegan would be excellent choices. Harry Potter is just too busy to be bothered. With trying to defeat Voldemort and all, I wouldn't blame him for not wanting to put anything more on his plate than he already has. I mean, hell, it isn't something that I would want to do."

"And Neville is exceptionally gifted with plants. Never seen anything quite like it." Theodore wasn't smiling when he said this, and Ed knew that somewhere, deep down in his heart, Theodore meant what he was saying. That was surprising. There weren't many people that Theodore had any respect for even in Slytherin.

"If we can't get help from Harry and Ron, then I think we should just look at other options in the Gryffindor house. I personally want to learn."

………………………………………………………………………………………

That Granger girl was getting information on him. He couldn't be positive about it; he just had a sneaking suspicion. It was the way she looked at him. It was the way she reacted to him. But most of all, it was all the research she was trying to do. She was looking at the walls, the statues, the portraits, stopping short of asking the ghosts about him; as if the ghosts would say anything about him.

He wasn't quite sure about the walls.

He knew of a spell that would extract a memory from an enchanted wall. All the walls at Hogwarts were enchanted. So if she knew the spell, theoretically she could extract the information from them. But she didn't know the spell. He knew she didn't know the spell. Not that she would need to know the spell in the first place. She already had a good source of information – Eric Crane. One of the parties that had helped screw him over in life. If that girl knew what was good for her, she would get away from him, but information was precious and scarce. He could understand the need.

She didn't have a diadem, after all.

It was the life that he was living right now that was getting to him. Sooner or later he would have to tell Ed that he was really a man. Sooner or later. The thing that prevented him was that Ed had a really big problem with magic. The very idea that someone could transform into an animal would bother him. A lot. In order for things to go smoothly on this matter, Ed had to have some degree of coolness with the fact that he could transform into a dog. That his dog was indeed a man.

Ed was an essential to his plan. When the time was right he would reveal that he was indeed, not a dog, and would offer him an exchange. Prove to the public that he was innocent and he, Sirius Black, would take him home. Free of charge. No soul exchange required. Ed would be able to live out the rest of your life in peace. Hell, with this limited time offer, he would even throw in a promise to make sure Ed got a comfy afterlife.

That is, if Ed was okay with the fact that he was not a dog.

This plan was bound to go wrong. Everyone he had tried to help had somehow ended up in a worse situation than they had originally started with. Remus and James were probably the best examples of this. It had been a simple want really, for Remus: just make his life less painful and more convenient. Maybe even go so far as to benefit society in general. For James, get him out of the pile of shit he had landed himself in by being himself. It had been his best quality and his worst quality, the way James tended to say what was on his mind, when it was on his mind.

Remus was no better off than he had been. James was dead. Somehow he felt betrayed. James was not supposed to die. But, if he brought that one point up, they would just say – not by us. It was true, and there was no way that he could get around it. There was plenty more to add to the spite of James death. Not the least being that Remus believed him to be guilty. He had tried so very hard to help Remus, not that the amount of effort had particularly mattered. It was the quality, which ultimately led into price, and price led into how much money you could get out of your parents, which led to the fact that neither of his parents really liked each other. Or him.

Nor was there much hope at that age of getting a job, because no one would have hired the 'Black Boy' with the anger issues. Regulus, they would have hired. Regulus, his dim-witted brother. Regulus was loved by everyone. Which lead to the question of why he was his mother's favorite son and Regulus was not. Of course, favoritism was not the primary issue at hand.

The primary concern was getting on with his life. What was left of his life. Right now he just happened to be in the most important and annoying part of his plan. All he could really do at this point was sit and wait. Enjoy the time. Contemplate his life. Muse on what it is like to be someone's pet dog. Spend significant amounts of time praying that no one discovered that he was, in fact, not a dog.

He hated when he had to wait for things. Right now all he could really do was wait. The situation called for something that just wasn't him – someone with patience. He wished every day that he was with James. That James was there. He needed James. But it was never the happy memories that came to mind. It was always the ways that he had screwed James over… or rather, how James had started the whole process by screwing himself over. Or was it the other way around? Had he screwed James over just by being his friend?

Not just friend. He had been James close friend. James had given him permission, lowered himself in a sense, so that Sirius Black could be his friend. The Gryffindor that should have been in Slytherin, all at the whim of a hat, and James Potter, who hated anything to do with dark magic. By all logic, they should never have been friends. And they hadn't always been. It had taken a year or so for the friend ship to come into existence and for the Marauders to form officially, but once it had… the damage had been done. It became James's goal to make his life better, to get him away from his family, to help him live a normal life… and… and he had tried his best to keep James from saying something stupid.

Which… he had never really succeeded at, least of all those times when it had really mattered. And there had been plenty of those, but... in his mind, James's fate had been sealed in one situation. Four words. Four poorly chosen words.

_"You know," he said, "I don't really want to. Find someone else. Regulus would be happy to serve you. I'm not the person."_

_"Nothing doing," the man said. "You don't exactly got a choice. Only one king. Only one prince. That's how the deal went. You're perfect. Just what we've been needing for a while now."_

_"You're coming with us, I'm afraid, like it or not," his companion said, grinning._

_"Like hell he is," James snarled, raising his wand._

_"James, don't --" Sirius started, but it was too late. James had already made his choice and acted on it, like Harry, without thinking of the danger._

And while spending time in Azkaban, he had contemplated how James and Lily's death had probably not been such an accident after all. There was more behind it than Pettigrew's betrayal, though even if his suspicions proved to be right, then there was still no excusing Pettigrew from his actions.

It was killing him to be like this. He knew that Pettigrew must be contacting Harry in some way or another. There were letters; he had seen Harry reading letters and Harry could not be receiving letters from to many different people. How in the world could Dumbledore be that stupid? How?

Any hopes of Pettigrew still being on or within the basic premises of Hogwarts were small; even if he was near the premises, visiting Harry with the purpose of manipulating the boy and spying on the Order, it would be almost impossible to catch him them. He was stuck with Ed all the time. Ed kept tabs on him. The boy was obsessive about keeping tabs on him.

But beyond the thought of Pettigrew there was something that he needed to do. Time was running short. Harry had the Marauders' Map in his possession and if he was allowed to keep it there was a very high chance that he would figure out that Sirius Black was once again on the prowl within the walls of the castle. The map would have to be taken from Harry and given to Ed. The question was, then, how was the map going to be stolen?

He certainly could not accomplish the task in dog form.

……………………………………………………………………………..

"I wasn't expecting it to start up right away Ed!"

"That is kind of the point of it, Hermione!"

"You could have told me!"

"I was under the impression that you knew! And either way, Blaise and Theodore are now more determined than ever to do it."

"I don't have time to deal with this, Ed, not right now. In two weeks I will have time to deal with this, and then…"

"Hermione, in two weeks, there won't be any major tests to worry about. I could help you with your homework right now, if that is what is stressing you out. It isn't cheating if we are both working on it together."

Hermione looked at him, still angry, but sat down and started to unpack the books that she was carrying. It wasn't the homework that was getting to her, it was something else. But it would be unfair to demand any more information from her, especially when he had given her so little. So now he would give her what he could, help on the Arithmancy homework and a heads up on what was going to be due in Defense Against the Dark Arts. "Just so much is going on right now… " she whispered.

"Anything I can do to help? One time offer."

"I doubt that there is anything that you would be willing to do. I just… don't know what to do with things right now. Ed, could you teach me just a bit of alchemy?"

"Alchemy is something that I can teach you. I can teach you real alchemy or I can give you half-ass answers. Cause it's pretty boring stuff at first. But then you get to do cool things, transmute steal into spears, make dolls, transmute flowers… all sorts of really cool things. If there is one thing that I need to teach you it is the law of conservation. Skip all the other crap. This is the only thing that matters."

"Little reward quickly eh? I just want to be able to do something. It is so frustrating to have to wait this long for answers on something. I have always been able to master any sort of magic that has been put in front of me…"

"Alchemy is not magic. It bears more resemblance to Muggle science than to magic."

"I can do muggle science!"

"Hermione, what you need to understand is what you can and cannot do with Alchemy. If you can tell me two things," he turned his head to one side and stopped talking for a moment feeling the need to change the general movement of the conversation, "about transfiguration then I might help you."

Hermione stared at him in disappointment, "I am not that sure if there is anything I could tell you about transfiguration that you don't already know."

"That might be an excellent idea Mrs. Granger," it was McGonagall in the background. Hermione's face showed a slight bit of fear, obviously wondering what McGonagall had overheard. But he would trust in the desperation of people, mainly Dumbledore and the order, that he would not get in trouble. "Mr. Elric, you will need to come with me."

"Why? I need to get a lot of homework done and I need to scout in Hufflepuff to find another volunteer. I haven't done anything."

"Professor Dumbledore requested your presence in his office, Edward."

He looked at McGonagall with annoyance plastered all over his face. It was either his performance in the classes or what he was planning with the study session. He was amazed that such things did not exist before his arrival at Hogwarts. But they did not. "Do I get to know why he wants me in his office?"

"Mr. Elric, you need to follow me. The Headmaster…"

"Is it so much to ask why I am being summoned to the office of the Headmaster?"

"It is concerning your performance in class. Now if you do not come to the office with me now then I am going to have to deduct points from your house."

This was a real annoyance. If it wasn't one thing, then it was another. After this little visit here with Hermione, he had plans to go and talk to Snape about a few things, mainly concocting a potion that would enable him to grow back a new leg. The new leg might even make him a bit taller. Not to mention the repairs that had to be made on the current automail. It was a time consuming process that he got (at most) an hour per day to work on and if Dumbledore somehow made it so that tonight he wasn't going to be able to work on this project, he was going to be pissed.

"I'll be there in a few minutes," he said in a tone that hinted the woman should go away. Instead, she stayed put in her post and escorted him up to Dumbledore's office, leaving no chance to really get in more conversation with Hermione. And so he was forced to trot off to Dumbledore's office like a good little dog… ironically with his dog.

Once he got there the Headmaster was sitting at his desk, the picture of patience. Perched on either side of him were the two phoenixes. Dumbledore's was looking a bit ratty, while his own was looking to be in its prime. Ed hated the bird, it had just shown up at his window one day, it connected him to Dumbledore, but more so it had just shown up for no real reason. He was glad that the bird was leaving him alone and opting to be in here with the other phoenix. "Want a sherbet lemon, Edward?"

Ed hated the way that the Dumbledore addressed him in a familiar way. He hated the way the Dumbledore was always smiling, like a puppet master would. The teachers, everyone around here was his puppet; and like the puppet that she was McGonagall left the room silently just by a gesture of Dumbledore's hand. "No, I do not want one. I want to know why I am here."

"Professor McGonagall has expressed some concern about the way that you are performing in her class, Edward, and I want to discuss that with you. There is also the matter of the inter-house study session that needs to be discussed."

"I see no problem with my performance in class. I show up, I finish the essays to the professors liking, and then I leave."

"Your essays are indeed very well written and very concise. However it is the performance with your magic that is concerning me right now. There are only a few classes here at Hogwarts that rely specifically on essays for the major portion of their grade. You are in a few of them."

"So what is the point? I know why you put me into this school, old man. I am not joining your little Order and there is no way that you can make me."

"I was not thinking of asking you to join the Order of the phoenix tonight, Edward. We are here to talk about your performance in magic."

"I don't think my performance in magic is the issue at this point."

"According to Professor Snape you are skilled in alchemy, yet you cannot perform even the simplest magic."

"Wait a minute, I though that Severus was feeding information to Voldemort, not you!"

"Professor Snape feeds information to both me and Voldemort, as per his original contract. He always gives the information first to Voldemort, then to me, and then he gives Voldemort the information about my reactions and such. He is a double agent, Mr. Elric."

"Everyone here is. So you put me in my position as a prefect because I know alchemy?"

"Because we need someone like you patrolling the halls a night, I trust Severus's word that you are skilled in alchemy. Although to what extent your skill goes to he would not say. You keep this school safe for Harry."

"I am not your puppet and I am not keeping this school safe for Harry. I am keeping it safe for the other students. I will hand Harry over to them if it means keeping the other students safe."

"I am very sorry to hear that you and Harry cannot get along. But this is hardly the point of the conversation. Your issues with magic need to be dealt with."

"You expect me to conform to your ways, to perform this magic of yours, and not be bothered by what it does? By how unnatural it is!"

"Magic is not unnatural, Ed. It is as natural as breathing to us. You are a wizard. You need to accept that you are a wizard and that magic is a part of your being!"

"I am not a wizard, I am an alchemist. Magic is not natural, you old man! Turning desks into pigs! Birds in paper airplanes! That is messing with life, the souls of others! That is just simply unnatural and I cannot condone those practices! I will not mess with the lives and souls of others!"

"We are not doing anything wrong by doing either of those things. They are simply animals and we are simply changing them into something different."

"You think that just because they are animals it is alright to just mess with them? So what is in store for us in the next year of transfiguration? Transfiguring a human? We are animals after all, animals that can be transmuted and transfigured like the rest of them."

"Transfiguring humans is not an accepted practice, Edward. Humans have a higher intelligence than animals do. That is what is holding you back from doing well with magic? The thought of transfiguring things into a shape other then what they were born with bothers you?"

"Damn right. I think that it would bother any rational person. Any person that really cared for life."

"It's not that I don't care for life, Ed, I just can separate for myself what life really matters and what life does not really matter. Transfiguring something into something else does not hurt it, and a wizard has to transfigure the object back into its original form."

"Bullshit. I have seen plenty of the students forget to transfigure their objects back into what they were. And there the birds are a few months later, still a box or whatever and they still aren't able to be birds and to fly."

"You display such concern for the birds that are used in transfiguration, yet you don't even take the time to care for your own phoenix."

"I fail to care for that creature. Why would it want to chain itself to me? Why won't it just fly free? It can… I'm not stopping it. Why would anyone who can fly want to chain themselves to the ground and serve another?"

"Phoenixes are sent to heal people. It is a mark of transmuting human flesh. Who did you transmute, Ed, and what did you loose?"

"None of your fucking business! I don't have to tell you!"

"You are right, and I can't read your mind so there is no real way that I can force it out of you. But Edward, let your phoenix heal you. Let it help you get through your troubles."

"I don't need help! Especially from a fucking bird. If that thing wanted to help me it would have come a long time ago. I have gotten over what I have done."

"Then why are you upset? I lost my soul when I transmuted my sister. I am doomed to go to hell when I die. No matter what I do. I still remember the demon's eyes when he took my soul, grinning and saying 'don't feel too bad, the music in heaven is terrible.' It haunts me every day."

"So they only took your soul, eh? Well I fail to care about your problems, old man. I'm not crying and I am not confessing what I did to the likes of you. Though you might want to think very hard next time you want to piss me off. I can go tell your little golden girl Hermione and she will believe me. Oh yes, she will. And if you loose her then how will you win?"

The old man was silent at the mention of Hermione; Edward knew that Hermione was being manipulated by more than one person – Harry and Dumbledore both were manipulating her. But there was another, another that was taking her time and pressuring her to do something that she might or might not want to be doing. At times she seemed to be happy and enjoying her studies, and at times she seemed to be miserable. But the changes in mood did not deter her from taking on an incredible amount of work. It seemed that the more stressed out she became, the more work that she was inclined to take on and he couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

Deep down, she knew.

His phoenix flew over and perched near where his hand was resting and started to cry. He pulled his hand away, abruptly, and shoved it in his pocket. "Phoenix tears have healing powers, Edward," Dumbledore stated calmly.

"My hand is fine. I am fine. I don't need magic to cure me."

"You do, however, need to talk to someone. That is why I summoned you here in the first place. Every day, for an hour or more, you will tell him your problems."

"What?"

"In order to perform magic or alchemy, one needs to be at peace with oneself. You are not at peace with yourself. That is why Professor Snape has agreed to counsel you with your current," looking very intently at a paper on his desk, "psychological issues. He will be using the most current knowledge that is available to help you overcome your issues."

"Wait, you are having Professor Snape counsel me with my problems? That man has more problems than I do."

"Nonetheless Edward, it seemed that none of the other teachers felt that you would be able to confide in them as completely as you would with Professor Snape."

"Yeah, like I am going to be able to confide in him now that I know that he is feeding information to you."

"These sessions are a private matter between you and Professor Snape, Edward."

"Don't give me that crap. If you can weasel information out of him then you will. But just you wait and see! There will be no way that you will ever get any information about me from Professor Snape! I will show you!"

And with that, he left Dumbledore's office, with his dog's leash firmly in hand, before the old man could tell him to go to Professor Snape's office immediately. Anywhere but that old man's office. Anywhere. And as he swept down the hallway, he could see the golden trio approaching him, with Luna in tow. Hermione outshone both of her male friends, she was intelligent, beautiful, witty, and had the wonderful gift of common sense. Luna had a wonderful sense of understanding and logic that he had never seen in a person before, not of course to say that he didn't think that she might be slightly crazy. He walked straight up to her, not caring if he made a scene in front of her friends and said, "Meet me in front of Professor Snape's office tonight, Hermione, I have something that I need to give you."

Hermione knew what he meant by the statement and seemed to be feeling mixed emotions about it. It could have been his timing, telling her to meet him later on tonight right in front of her friends. Eventually she would get over the humiliation, of sorts. He hurried down the hallway towards Snape's office, not bothering to look behind him. He felt a hand grab the sleeve of his robe, gently, "Where are you going Edward?"

"Nowhere Luna. Nowhere interesting to say the least. Stupid old man."

Luna smiled, "I think that nowhere is a very interesting place. Never been there myself, I hear from my Aunt that you can learn a lot of interesting things in nowhere."

"Your Aunt seemed to have gotten out quite a bit."

"She liked to have a busy social life."

"Listen, Luna I have a favor to ask of you."

"Oh?"

"I need to make sure that I can trust someone. You can help ensure this. You are, in fact, the only one that can ensure this."

"Trust is an important thing."

That was he liked about Luna, there were no catches to the friendship that he had with her. If he needed a favor from her or if he needed to talk to her then she would sit and listen. She could understand. Perhaps a bit to well. There were catches with his other friends, Blaise, Theodore, Hermione, and if he could be considered a friend, Professor Snape. Thinking back on it, he couldn't really remember a time where he had a friendship where there had been no catches to it. But thinking back to Hermione, she would come tonight if she knew what she wanted.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"I can't believe that you actually agreed to do this."

"I will do a surprising amount of things to shut the old man up, Edward, believe it or not. Of course, this is mostly for my own personal benefit. I highly resent you tearing up my classroom and making me look like an idiot in front of the other teachers."

Luna was calm and serene, sitting on a chair in Severus's office petting his dog. She didn't seem to be care about the conversation that was going on around her, nor did she seem to care about the glares that Severus was giving her. Or the dog. It could have been either. Severus had been strangly bitter aobut his restoration of the house on Spinners End. It was also true that Severus did not generally like people; it wasn't the fact that Luna had the tendency to talk to Harry Potter, it was the simple fact that she was a person. Therefore, until proven otherwise, was annoying and a burden to be around.

"You don't actually mean to go through with the counseling sessions do you?"

"I do mean to go through with them, Elric. You need to deal with your issues. Dumbledore and I are convinced that if you are able to talk with someone openly about your problems then your magic will be more controllable. Frankly, Elric, you are one of the most powerful wizards that I have ever seen. It's not human what you could do, if you had the control to match your ability."

"But that just what I want to be, human. Nothing weird about me."

"That's what everyone wants to be deep down. We want to live our lives and be happy. But not all of us can do that, Ed. You can't spend your entire life running away from your problems. I know that much for sure. Look we both have our problems..."

"My problems tend to come and bite me in the ass, hard."

"You need to accept what you have done in your life. It's all about being a person. Even if you don't want to control your magic and be able to perform each spell perfectly, don't you want to want to be able to live with yourself and your past? Regretting your past day in and day out is not a pleasant thing."

"I don't have time to deal with my problems. I don't have time for this."

"You are going to have to make time, Elric. Tell me, what in life do you regret doing? What are you satisfied with in life? What is your greatest accomplishment? What are your relationships with your family like?"

"What are you going to do if I don't tell you anything?"

"Pair you with Potter and Weasley every day you come to my class, and that is only the beginning, Elric."

"You have to promise me that you won't tell anyone. I'm not proud of what I did but I live with it. You can't tell anyone, not Dumbledore, the teachers, Voldemort, anyone. Promise?"

"The only way to ensure that the promise you are asking is through an unbreakable vow. Which, by the presence of Luna Lovegood, I see that you have been preparing for. I have people to serve and both of them are very interested in what makes you tick and for that matter, what could make you work for them. The more information I give, the better my life becomes."

"Fine. An unbreakable vow it is then."

"Oh I see, you need a third person to complete the vow then... couldn't ask your friends to do it, they wouldn't because of your problems with handling magic. They just don't understand what you are trying to do. But don't worry Ed, I understand. It would be hard getting used to working with such limitations. I would suggest working backwards."

They both held out their wands so that they were touching and they took each others hands. Snape seemed nervous about the bond, not so much in the nature of it all, but rather as to whether anything would go wrong during the casting. There was fire involved in the spell somehow, Ed remembered. That could be bad, if anything went wrong. "If this vow fails Elric, then we are both going to die. Do you understand me?"

Being his usual pleasant self, though Ed, Snape was not happy about the idea of the unbreakable vow; he could tell this by the tone of his voice, the way his eyes glittered, and the way that he was gripping his hand. His human hand, not the automail one. If the vow was no in place, then he would be free to give away information that would no doubt make his life easier. Luna on the other hand was completely cool about the prospect of the vow and placed his wand upon this joined hands.

Ed nodded and spoke clearly, "Severus Snape, do you vow to never reveal my secrets to any one, in any way, that might include hinting, written words in any form or language, other symbols or codes, or openly telling someone part of or all of the secrets that will be shared? This will also include any hints or secrets that might be found out by legimancy or occumancy."

"I swear that no one will ever find out the secrets shared in this room, by any means, so long as Mr. Elric will take great care as to not divulge any secrets that he may or may not find out about me."

When the spell was complete, thin tongues of red flames shot out of their wands and wound itself around their hands. When they swore that they would fulfill their end of the vow, the flames disappeared.

"I am impressed Elric. Everything went right."

"Well, we weren't really doing any magic, just swearing to each other that we wouldn't share secrets. Weird way, though."

"Speaking of secrets, though…"

"Right, right… do you have any alcohol about? I would feel much better about telling my life's story if I was slightly buzzed… and you might want some too, it's kind of long, in-depth and emotional."

"We're doing this sober Elric. Shots afterwards."

"Do I get some?"

"I am not allowed to give alcohol to minors."

"But you said that no one would believe me about anything, even if I told the truth. We're all friends here. I could give you exclusive information about what is going to be included in the next issue of the Quibbler."

"No thanks." Snape said in a flat tone of voice.

"Your own choice. this upcoming issue is going to the best yet."

"Either way," Snape said, "getting back on topic here, we are here to discuss the personal issues of Ed."

"If you insist… it all started really when I was young and my father left us, my mother, me, and my brother in our home in Resembool."

"Ed you are not going to tell me every detail about your childhood. Just tell me the parts that matter. The parts that are affecting your life as of now."

"But this is relevant. If you don't understand the good parts, then the bad parts aren't going to make any sense. This explains why I did what I did."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Snape was going to crack. At least, if Ed was going to have to tell his life story to the man and try to decipher what was wrong in his life. Or something. During it all Snape had interjected weird thoughts and opinions. Snape thought he was very jealous of his father and wanted to kill him. Which in all retrospect was a very accurate synopsis of what he wanted to do... minus the jealousy thing, of course. He had no reason to be jealous of that worthless bastard. Its just the part after the whole killing his father thing that bothered Ed. The part where he was apparently very much in love with his mother.

In the wrong way.

He loved his mother. He hated his father. He wanted to kill his father. Not because he had... sexual feelings for his mother and thought killing his father, thereby eliminating the competition, would allow him to do this. Oedipus complex. He had an Oedipus complex, according to Snape. And a brother complex. He had a lot of complexes in his life; not surprising, since his life tended to be very complex.

According to Snape this was the latest in muggle innovation in helping people to overcome their psychological problems. The muggle studies teacher had provided him the text, and apparently Snape had been reading it over during the last week or so. He would take Snape's word at face value, he wasn't really interested in looking into the world of muggle psychology, even if it meant for his own health. Mental health. Especially if it involved freaks like this... Freud, was it? Now there was a man who had mother issues. Unlike Ed himself, who definitely did not. At all.

He shuddered, trying to wipe that thought out of his mind. _Cutting edge Muggle science, my ass. Eurgh. _He had tried to convince Snape that he was on the wrong track and the Freud guy was full of shit, but his counselor was having none of it. Luna had watched the entire thing with fascination, seemingly agreeing with everything that Severus seemed to be saying about dreams and such. But of course, she didn't know anything about the cutting edge is Muggle psychology. Which was just oh so convenient.

"Socially unacceptable urges cause anxiety and must be repressed by the ego, kept firmly in the subconscious. A variety of defense mechanisms are used for this purpose... I believe the one you're experiencing right now is called denial."

"You believe this?"

"Dr. Freud explains it very clearly. I am certainly not an expert in matters of mental health, and so I will submit to the knowledge of those who are. Now, Elric, why don't we talk about your dreams?"

And so the hell had continued.

Hermione hadn't been outside the door when he had finally gotten out of Snape's office. Before he would imbibe some alcohol, he would first have to see if Hermione was around and if she still wanted to learn alchemy. If that was the case, then he would make her take a short vow and then there would be a short lesson afterwards. He didn't know why he was doing this tonight. He just felt like it. Maybe his student would be wiser with her alchemy then he had. Somehow, he would make her understand the way the world worked. He would prevent her from doing what he had done.

Although there was a part of him that really didn't want her to show up. He wanted to get drunk with Snape and Luna. Snape was an amusing drunk. Luna seemed like she would be one as well. Luna was easy to spend time with and he hated doing this to her. Using her. She wouldn't want to sit through the alchemy lesson. She wasn't interested in those sort of things. Part of her no doubt resented having to roam the halls with him, looking for Hermione, rather than sitting around having a better time. And after walking the halls a bit he found her, alone, looking over her shoulder nervously, muttering something about an invisibility cloak.

"Hermione. How has your day been?" Luna asked

"Extremely more interesting, especially since our little meeting in the hallway. They could be here and he could be watching us."

"There are a million people out there that might be watching us. Kingsley, Moody, Dumbledore... to name a few." Ed added in.

"That's not what I mean Ed, and you know it. I mean Harry and Ron. Why did you have to ask me in front of them?"

"Do you want the perverted response or do you want the non-perverted response? Because your answer begs for both. You look so sexy when you are angry, Hermione. Hasn't anyone told you that? I just can't help myself sometimes, I am in fact male."

"Ed, I am not down here for stupid little flirting games. The only reason that I am here is because I thought that you might be willing to teach me how to do alchemy. If you are not then I have about two more essays that need to be written by the end of the week that I could get done right now. I am sure Luna has things that she needs to get done as well."

"Not really Hermione. I am happy to do a favor for Ed."

"You can't take life so seriously all the time. A sense of humor is going to be essential, since you are studying alchemy."

"Why a sense of humor?"

"Lots of work. Little reward soon. It helps if you have something other to enjoy."

"That's what I've heard about law school and becoming an auror. I like to study."

"If you insist." Ed replied, not quite sure if Hermione realized what she was truly in for. It was one thing to say that you understood what hard work meant, and it was another thing to actually go through and do the hard work.

"So what is this vow going to entail?"

"The logical; you're not going to tell anyone about the alchemy secrets that I am telling you and you are not going to tell anyone that I am teaching you. Or hint. Or communicate in any manner. Until I tell you otherwise. I don't want to have you go off and try to teach someone before you are ready to do so."

"You are really trusting aren't you?"

"I learned the hard way. Besides, this place is full of technicalities. I don't want to get tied up in some form of trouble."

"I am guessing that this need to be very specific has stemmed partially from Kreacher?"

"There were other parties involved." Luna said.

"I am sure. What will you be teaching me tonight, anyways? Something useful, I hope. I have done some research on alchemy already but never tried anything myself. I've tried to memorize some…"

"That is a really good start. However, in order to really excel in alchemy you need to be physically fit. It doesn't do much good in practical application if one transmutation tires you out."

"Okay. But there must be a secret to really good alchemy, something that normal people miss when they study it. You must know it."

"Practice. Lots and lots of practice. Not to mention practical application. Lots of practical application"

"There isn't anything else?"

"Not really. Alchemy takes time and dedication and a teacher that isn't crap. Of course, that would apply to anything really. Now about that unbreakable vow… as you can see Luna is going to be the bonder."

It was an essential thing to do for him to cover his tracks. She was annoyed that she had to take an unbreakable vow in order to learn alchemy and he was annoyed that he had to have her take the vow in the first place. He followed the same process as he had with Snape: touching, wands, and speaking vows and such. Being overly specific and making sure that there was no way that she could spill the secrets that he was telling her.

He was in charge now and Luna was there to back him up on this. she could understand the predicament, she could understand why he needed to do this. Why he needed to prevent Hermione from doing something that might be very stupid, from trying to teach Harry and Ron, or even trying to sell him out to someone. And as the vow started, in much the same way it had the last time with Luna putting her wand upon this joined hands, he couldn't help but feel guilty about all the secrecy. It felt good in a way to be able to dictate what was going on. On the other hand, he was in charge and he was making Hermione's life very difficult. He was forcing her to trust him without really giving her any reason to. He knew more about her than she knew about him, albeit with good reason on his side, but that still did not take away the fact that he was hiding a lot from her. He needed to compensate somehow and this was the only way that he could think to do just that.

What would she think of him if she knew what he had done?

Once the bond was done Luna got up and left, leaving them to do their alchemy lesson in peace. He had mixed feelings about this and promised that he would make time for later, he would do something to make this up to her later. It always seemed to be later with him. Alphonse whined as she left, she was his main source of attention. He pulled some dog treats from his pocket and put them on the floor for the dog. The dog observed the treats and did take one, but still looked annoyed. He needed to spend some more time with Alphonse as well.

"Hermione, I cannot teach you the way that I was taught. Although I think that the lesson and the way that it was taught is essential there is no the time to teach it. But somehow I need to you to understand something. You cannot be a good alchemist if you do not understand this."

"Okay. I am certain that I will be able to understand it, Ed. Alchemy isn't so much harder than magic, is it?"

"All is one and one is all. That is the most important concept in alchemy."

He watched it sink in, the most important concept in alchemy, was basically only a few words long and in the form of a riddle. He knew that she would be able to understand it, eventually. She was smart. was basically only a few words long and in the form of a riddle. He knew that she would be able to understand it, eventually. She was smart. She must have dealt with riddles before. was basically only a few words long and in the form of a riddle. He knew that she would be able to understand it, eventually. She was smart. She must have dealt with riddles before. "That is the most important concept in alchemy?"

"Yes."

"Understanding this concept separates the would be alchemists from the real deal?"

"Yes."

She frowned at the floor, looking worried. He could practically see the wheels in her head turning, trying to sort what he had told her into the way she understood the world. She was trying to think about it in rational terms. Of course alchemy was rational, but not... in the same way Hermione was rational. This wasn't going to be easy for her. It was a shame that she couldn't have started at a younger age.

"What do I have to do? Write an essay on this?"

"If it helps you comprehend it then yes. What do you think it means?"

"Everything is connected. Something about conservation? Its awfully wooly, Ed, the statement doesn't make sense."

"Its not supposed to. It took me a month to understand that statement. So don't feel that bad."

"Well if it was a bit more specific then I could understand it! Why are you being so cryptic?"

"No less cryptic than my own teacher was."

"I would love to meet him."

"Hermione, I was taught by a woman. The scariest woman that you could ever find and you are not going to find her."

"Bloody hell. Was I going in the right direction?"

"Yes. If you really want to understand alchemy and that statement, then go out in nature and watch what happens. Really watch what happens. There. Since I am your teacher then that can be constituted as an assignment. The write out something to me explain what 'all is one and one is all' means."

"So that's it. Just watch nature and write out an essay?"

"Not quite. I started transmuting long before I learned that lesson. It isn't fair if I make you wait until you understand; so we are going to be doing a simple transmutation."

He went into careful detail about what each of the lines meant as he drew the circle. It was a simple circle, the all-purpose one that he and Al used so often. She copied his, taking careful notes on her copy of what each of the lines meant. Once she was through, he handed her the one that he had drawn; the difference between the two was obvious and he didn't need to tell her that she needed to learn how to draw straighter lines or better circles. She knew.

"Now we transmute. We are going to do a simple transmutation with some basic elements. Nothing spectacular. You are going to transmute a washcloth from these elements."

The look was priceless. Hermione glared at Ed as he handed her the elements and she carefully poured them onto the circle. He couldn't help but think how different this first transmutation was from his own. There had been excitement on his; on hers, there wasn't much. Just impatience. She was learning the art specifically for fighting the war and wanted to move on to the heavy stuff. Maybe too soon. Or maybe he was taking her too slowly. But the faster she learned without understanding the cost, the more likely she was to make mistakes. Like he had.

He moved the circle so that it was facing her more, "You clap your hands once and then set them down on the circle. You activate it and complete the circle."

"Okay."

And she did as she was told. The familiar blue light of an alchemy transmutation lit up the dim room. Hermione's face now showed a great deal of excitement. This was the part where she was going to prove to him that she was a competent student and that she was ready to go onto bigger and better things. And in a way, she did prove that. She was a competent student. She actually managed to transmute the elements into cloth. Just not a washcloth, or rather a conventional washcloth; the end product was quite a normal piece of cloth that resembled a handkerchief.

"Not bad for a first time." He looked up and saw the disappointment in her expression. "Hermione, you cannot go into alchemy and expect results right away. You cannot jump into the alchemy of war right away. You have to transmute simple things like dolls and flowers first."

"I don't have time for this!"

"Think of it this way: a lot of people never get to where you are right now."

"Oh, yeah. What was your first transmutation like!"

"Perfect. I transmuted a doll with my brother. We gave it to our friend." He decided to leave out the part where his friend had burst into tears because she had been afraid of his alchemy. The after effects were not perfect. But the result of the transmutation was.

"And I could hardly transmute a piece of cloth into a washcloth!"

"I had an advantage over you. I had many books that I could read. I've been learning since childhood. You, on the other hand, have had far less time to read and absorb the material. It makes a difference of a period of time."

"That still doesn't change the fact that I was unable to do it. I can't afford to sit here and just waste time like this… there are people dying out there… because of Voldemort. And Harry is depending on me. Everyone is depending on me. If I don't get results then how in the world is Harry supposed to?"

"Take the piece of cloth, Hermione. Keep it. It will be your best memory of alchemy. Try to view it as what it is. In alchemy you have to learn hard mistakes and success comes at a high price. The faster you understand the world for what it is, the better you will do."

"A failure. There isn't that much time! The war needs to be won and the way to do it is with alchemy and all the alchemists seem to be either dead, mad, or in Azkaban for some minor offense. I don't have time to study, I need results right now, Ed. I am in the front lines, because like it or not, everyone is depending on Harry to win the war. They are depending on me to produce some results. Soon."

"Not so much a failure as a beginning step. If you want to know about alchemy you need to understand what the world is and how it works. The ultimate order of things in nature. Once you understand that, truly, then your alchemy will be better. Not in the power sense, but in the sense that it will be more balanced."

There was a moment of silence then, Hermione putting away the transmutation circles in the endless pit that was her bag, leaving the cloth on the table. He pushed the cloth towards her, without really thinking, and for a moment their hands met. His automail hand, concealed by a glove, and her hand; she closed her hand around his. He glanced away from her and closed his eyes, imaging what the touch would feel like if it had been his real hand. It was an awkward moment, really.

Hermione was not squeezing his hand too hard, but if she increased her hold only just so much, then she would be able to tell that it was not a human hand that she was holding, but one made of metal. And for a moment he wished that she would do it. Figure it all out so that he could end the game of deception that he was playing with everyone. Ed wanted just one person there that he could trust, just one person that would not manipulate him for information, and mainly someone to talk freely too. Someone who would not be feeding information to both Dumbledore and Voldemort; although in this case it might be wishful thinking, if he talked to her then there was a high chance that she would tell Dumbledore or Harry, Voldemort set aside. Dumbledore and Harry were here, and so therefore, they were annoying. Voldemort was not here, but he was stupid, and not that much of a threat in the long run.

He pulled his hand away. And she pulled hers away, clutching the transmuted cloth. She tucked the cloth away in the pocket where she kept the wand, and Ed knew that there was a chance that one day she would come to treasure the cloth. Her first transmutation had gone well, even though she didn't seem to view it in that sense.

"I think that we should both go back to our Houses. Tomorrow's going to be a long day… with the whole inter-house study session."

"I guess."

Hermione turned around and left, leaving Ed alone. He waited until she was well on her way to the Gryffindor tower before he decided to head for the Slytherin dormitories. On the way back he contemplated what he might teach Hermione next, although his ability to teach her was severely limited. A test of creativity, perhaps? Simple circles could be very useful on the battlefield, if one knew how to use them properly. It seemed like a good idea.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

There was a certain sense of awe going through the air throughout the day. Gossip ran through the air like no other, since there were relatively few interesting activities that the students could participate in other than gossiping. Because of course studying was a last ditch effort for something interesting to do. The few posters that had been put up telling the students about the study sessions were not nearly as effective as all the gossip that went around.

He figured that this meant that a lot of the students would show up. This turned out to not be the case. He and the other volunteers, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Seamus, Blaise, Theodore… (need to add in others…) watched as a few students trickled in, mostly from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. There were a few from Slytherin, more so than from Gryffindor.

"This was a big hit," Theodore muttered.

"Think of it this way," Hermione ventured, "The fewer students show up, the easier it will be to answer all the questions that they have."

"Not to mention going through the study guide will be easier," Neville added in.

He sighed and started to hand out the study guides to the students that showed up. "These are study guides from all the teachers. If you share them with people that decided to not show up, be aware that Professor Snape along with Professor Flitwick charmed them so that they cannot be copied, but if the study guide is tampered with then there will be some consequences."

"The purpose of this study group is to breed some understanding between the Houses. We are trying to show everyone that we are all people and that we are all capable of getting along with each other. The study guides contain some information that will give everyone here an advantage over the people who did not show up." Hermione said.

"Why should we be punished for letting other people look at the study guide," one of the students asked.

"It's to encourage people to show up to the study sessions." Luna said. "The study guides have blank spots in them for you all to fill out. You are to pair with a person from another house and try to fill it out together. If there are any questions about the material contained, feel free to come and ask one of us."

"For our first exercise we are going to learn why magic can be useless in regular combat. You will all cast a curse on Ed and see if it effects him. Any questions?""For our first exercise we are going to learn why magic can be useless in regular combat." Theodore said with a smirk on his face. "You will all cast a curse on Ed and see if it effects him. Any questions?"

The students paused for a moment, not quite sure if they heard the instructions. The students paused for a moment, not quite sure if they heard the instructions. But eventaully some first year came up and cast a spell, something pathetic like Wingaudium Leviosa and the spell just bounced off. It wasn't to long before the other students came up, in pairs, and started to cast various spells on him. Or tried to. Most, if not all of the spells just bounced off of him. The lesson was practical and powerful for the students.

He thought of some speech that he could give, to encourage the students as to the true importance of this study session but he decided against it, choosing instead to watch the students as they filled out the study guide. Hermione and most of the others had quickly jumped into helping the other students fill out the study guides. Yet he lingered at the front of the classroom for a moment, watching the whole thing unfold. It could be the start of a new beginning.

Much like the flowers and dolls had been the start of a journey for him, in a sense.

"This is going better than I thought," he muttered.

"It is going," Luna replied. "Much like anything of this nature would be going. The people are nervous and unsure of what to think."

"I don't care if only one person walks out of here seeing some sense that is better than a big fat none."

"It takes a lot to see sense the way that you do, Ed. After all, you knew what was wrong and you still took the fool's journey. I think that you are somewhere near the middle of the journey, the world lies at the end of the journey Ed, remember that."

"How…"

"It was told in the stars Ed. You made a mistake and now you can see the world in a different way from what you did before. People often see things that way after they make mistakes, you know. By the way, where is your phoenix?"

"I have no idea. I do not want it."

"It is a gift from above, said the legend, to give some sort of peace to those that made mistakes. It can heal your wounds Ed, no pet is more loyal than a phoenix. That bird will give its life for you."

"What legend says that?" He asked, ignoring the last part of Luna's statement.

"The Legend of Rosie and Theodore, the one with the Snorcacks, and I think we better get to helping some of the other students."

And with that it continued.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"I do not understand the madness behind this."

"You don't need too. Who was the one who betrayed who in the end?"

"It was for the better. I know my plan will work out in the end."

"So what poor soul is going to be tainted by this plan of yours? It is delicate."

"The prophecies boy."


End file.
